Actually, I am not back.

Don't look upset. You knew it would come to this end.

Anyway, after giving it some thought (about a minute or so), I have decided to cease all form of updates and whatnot related to this blog. Thank you to all that read my updates and musings during the nascent years. For that, you are truly awesome.

I have not given up on writing entirely. I do have some things up my sleeveless sleeves. Heck, you may find my work somewhere else, especially if you can recognise my style of prose (the lack thereof, really).

Till then, stay classy and thank you once again.

Ta. 

I'm back. Sort of.

Has it really been 2 years since the last post? 

Duh. 

Since I've a lot of free time (pfft) I might as well use it to post some thoughts of mine. 

Stay tuned, folks (whoever you are). 

Ta. 

Thanks for nothing.

Finally.

My long-running nightmare of an assignment is officially over.

From the end of June all the way to the 20th of December, I was assigned to a client whose Asia's base is in Hong Kong. Since I was on the bench and there were no openings for people like me, I had no choice but to take the assignment. My first overseas assignment and it's in a country I never ever wanted to visit. This should be interesting.

Right off the bat, I've never met ruder people in my life. I remember one incident where we were at this eatery ordering our food; only one person in the group was able to speak basic Cantonese so we relied on him to get our orders in. Since the meal comes either with soup (some of the scariest pieces of unidentified animal parts are in it) or drink, I chose iced lemon tea (less sugar). As the place was a din, my order was taken at the very last minute. This somehow made the waitress really mad, as she gave me a look that would have melted concrete. Till this day I wish her well. Who am I kidding? I hope she chokes on a bone.

People in this country just don't seem to want to talk nicely. They get really impatient in a manner of seconds if you're a teeny bit slow or you're asking something they don't understand. I saw once an Indian couple waiting at the taxi stand where the taxi company's personnel had their voices raised higher than a Canto-pop concert telling them their booking has something amiss. I really pitied the couple as they looked despondent but there was no way I could have helped.

Then, there are the Chinese from the motherland. And they are indeed a...special bunch.

Management was mainly from China and this was my first time working side by side with them. The stories are true: they are slave drivers. Foxconn has nothing on these folks. They backstabb, frontstab, sidestab and wildstab their way to get things done. 
 
There's also the question of work hours. Just because you can work round the clock that doesn't mean you are allowed to impose your robotism on me. I want to have a life, you know. Well, you don't, that's why I'm bitching now. 

For some reason, the northern ones tend to have problems with volume control. Why buy a loudspeaker when you can hire a northerner? They're essentially the same. This vexes me. A lot. A whole fucking lot. You see, I'm a pretty chilled person. But when you talk to me louder than a bus running the red light, well, you suck. I'm not one of your northern buddies where pork chops are the size of books. I'm a lot more refined.

I have to say that the standards that I've encountered during my tenure would have made my previous boss baulk and probably vomit buckets of blood. Even my half-assed emails are fuller than the ones I've had to deal with.

In some cases, being explicit is not enough; you have to grab them by the throat and make them explain what is actually required to do. Put it in black-and-white. Email everyone you know including your neighbour. Just do it. It's to cover your ass. Whip it out when shit hits the fan. Then wipe the shit on their faces. 

All in all, I had the worst time of my life. I was depressed. I very nearly was sent over the edge; the precipice of despair was right in front of me but somehow I always managed to crawl back. I've gotten some pretty nasty feedback from them regarding my time there. I will say this: I did my best, I gave my all to this project and I set in place a number of things that none of the earlier consultants did. The truth is out there and it's being covered by the team. Justice will prevail in the long run. 

To my former team, I hope you get what you deserve. 

Ta.

Yay, I'm in Hong Kong. Welcome to typhoons and air pollution. And giant portions of rice and pork.

This is the conversation I had with the manager who assigned me with my latest project:

"Hi Chris, please pack your bags.

Huh? What the heck?

Hong Kong.

Huh? What? 

You fly there next month.

Oh, ok. (HOLY SHIT)

Pauses for a while....'On second thought, next Monday.'
You can't be serious..."

I am now in Hong Kong. A place I thought I'd never visit let alone work in. As I write this, the country is experiencing its worst air pollution in years. When I came, it was after the biggest typhoon in years. 

What's next? Worst dim sum glut in a century?

On paper, my race is stated as Chinese. My features are that of a Chinese weightlifter whose diet consists of dumplings with dubious meat origins in it. And rice. Lots of rice. I am anything but. I do not relate to the Chinese mentality nor do I identify myself with any of its tradition and culture. Except for being calculative, vindictive and all that Shanghai jazz. So when people see me and talk to me in a Chinese dialect, the look of disbelief when I say I don't speak any is akin to a brown bear finding out that the salmon are now chicken (gasp and roar!).  

I am going to be here for the next 6 months with flybacks every 2 weeks (it also depends on the budget since I'm worth about 4 Chinese senior consultants) or until I get myself fired for being bad at work. In all honesty, I can't wait to get back to Singapore. While their food is significantly inferior to that of my home country, Malaysia, I'd much rather have it right now as my quota for pork has exceeded by a mile ever since I got here; I've had pork with tomato sauce, pork with some unidentified sauce, steamed pork with 3 cups of rice, pork with noodles that had didn't have much noodle are among the highlights of my porky adventure thus far.

I'll be diplomatic (since I'm still on the island) and say that I truly miss Malaysia. I used to laugh and roll my eyes whenever I hear someone say Malaysians are nice and friendly and other nauseating pleasantries but I now appreciate such words. It really is true.

Gosh, it's time for dinner. Maybe I'll try some rice with, you've guessed it, not pork.

Ta.

The dust has settled.

I am at home. In the morning. On a weekday. I am still getting paid. It's been 3 weeks since the project I was in ended. At first, it was rapture; no more getting up wishing the nightmare would end. Day in, day out, I would be subjected to mental torture. Many a time I wanted to give up and throw my laptop through the window but the thought of paying for the damaged window and laptop put me off every time. Instead, I told myself, one shitty part of the work at a time. So on my last day, it was all peace and quiet. 5:30PM came, I packed, said good-bye to the team and left.

The week after the project was bliss. Still woke up the same time but with a smile on my face. Didn't need to go the office anymore. That week was great. I slowly packed my stuff for the holiday the following week, played games and watched shows while checking mails. Best part? No mails of importance! Joy!

Fast forward to the present, I am wearing shorts and a smelly tee. Had my morning coffee, saw my girl off to work, watched a bit of Rachael Ray (whom I have a like/dislike thing) then checked my mails again. Nada. Not a thing of importance. I sent mails to my scheduler and counsellor asking for help in providing me information on courses I can attend while I wait for a new assignment. Nada. At least I tried, right?

Simply said, I am too lazy to be lazy. I get restless pretty easily. Whilst on holiday, I was thinking of what to do next after the first day even though we had things planned out. I am like a child with mild ADD. Can't sit down too much lest I waste away. My family and friends say take this time to rest and relax, after all, I did give my all to the project for nearly a year. Time to rejuvenate, they say.

But the time has come for me get back into the field. Being at home and doing things at a leisurely pace has been the greatest feeling after the nightmare yet I want to be in the thick of the action again. I checked my mails again, you guessed it, nada.

Time for Rachael Ray again.

Ta.

48 - 5. Do the math. That's how much sleep I got.

The body is an amazing object. Until you fuck it up with not getting sleep. Then, it starts to defy you. It forces your eyes to close half way. Your limbs start to feel heavy, and you realise you are dragging them like an ape.

When you tell your family you worked that much, they'll shudder and eyes get bigger. Why, they ask? How could such an organisation treat their staff in such a way. Thus begins the explanation. Ah, they go. Huh, they say. Take care is the end line. Skype call over, your body begins to shut down like whether you want or not. It's like an incessant prompt from your IT department to install mandatory software updates that you keep on clicking later and later then it says fuck you, we're installing now so save your work as fast as you can 'cos we're gonna do this shit now. 

The minute your head touches the pillow, sleep takes over you. Your mind is at ease, finally. 30 minutes later, you wake up. It's 2:47PM. Body clock and mind in total disarray. The body is depleted but the mind refuses to bend to its soporific grasp. Mind over matter? Mind wins. So the next 24 hours become odd, the mind is sort of fresh but the body is completely fucked. You know what I mean? Then, you go back to work at 5:05AM to continue where you left off.

Wonderful, isn't it?

Ta.

Happy New Year. Happy Chinese New Year. Ha..Fuck it, 2012 already sucks.

People!

How are you doing? I hope the holidays have been kind to you. Rejuvenated, I am. This is the second time I'm back in KL in a month and it feels great. Except for the heat. The damn, freaking heat. But all is swell in the household. Tomorrow, I will fly back to the island of tender characters who masquerade behind a wall of falseness to hide their lack of spine. Highfalutin is their calling card and highfalutin they shall be known thenceforth. 

Gosh, I love Dictionary.com. 

It's been nearly 7 months since I've left home to work abroad and the inevitable I-miss-home feeling is still there and strikes its hardest blow the day before departure. Mummy's boy I am and will always be. Yes, every month I will post something similar to this but it's the truth and it's easier to write the truth. I leave the lying in fiction. 

2012 started decently, to put it mildly. People were still in the holiday mood thus were more forgiving of one's mistake. As the days went by, that same forgiving nature was replaced with a more familiar tone: kiasu. Yes, the stories are indeed true. And I will reinforce this statement till the day I die. It's like they are born with a predefined fear of failing that they actually botch things because a one-time take on things is the only way and mistakes receive punishment of the highest order. Argh, all this anger is making me hungry for food. Real food. Read: Malaysian food. 

And don't get me started on the accent. 

I'm saving that for the next post. 

Ta. 

See ya, 2011. Hello, 2012.

2011 is about to say sayonara and here I am posting a blog post about it. Should I be out and about ushering in the new year?

Fuck no.

I am perfectly happy to sit at home, watch TV and be with my family. This time tomorrow, I'll be back in Singapore. The sadness is still there, even packing my new Uniqlo cotton socks is starting to make me feel melancholy.

But I'll be back. I know I will.

2011 has been an emotional roller coaster. I experienced some decent highs and the lowest of lows in recent memory. I'm not going to go all retrospective as the nostalgia will make me wish I had a hanky.

I shall bid you adieu and I hope your last day of 2011 will be a blast. As for 2012, well, let's hope that movie's prophetic moment does not come true.

Happy New Year.

This is Chris, signing off. 

P.S. Beginning next year (tomorrow) some changes shall take place in this blog. Nothing major but you'll notice it. I hope.

R.I.P Gary Speed

When I opened the Daily Mail a few days ago, the first article that came up was the news of Gary Speed's passing. 

To say it was shocking would be a terrible understatement. 

Total disbelief filled me. I sat, hunched, over my tiny Macbook Air (this post was not paid for by Apple, sigh) staring at the screen for a good half minute*, thinking this was a terrible misprint. 

It wasn't. 

I never knew the guy, of course, but his passing did affect me after the article mentioned he committed suicide. When he was still a football player, there was no reported incidents of him causing debauchery on and off the pitch. He was always portrayed as the model footballer; dedicated to the game and utterly loving every minute of it. The word on his death is depression. Depression? This man had a glowing career as a player, is on the rise as manager of Wales, has a lovely wife and two children, yet, was apparently afflicted with depression. I can't even begin to fathom what the family is going through right now but I wish them well in their time of privacy. 

On the outside, all seemed well, but it seems the truth is far from that. It is really sad, no? You have the world in your hands yet to have such an illness coursing through your being, rearing its ugly head every now and then must be tormenting. When I get depressed, I shrug my shoulders and laugh it off. Even if it's something major, nothing will keep me dwelling on it for long. 

There is now a circular from the Football Association going around their members the effects of depression. This is a very good effort from them as depression can strike at anyone, regardless of their well-being. 

I've seen how mild depression can afflict a person and even then it was very difficult for me to help this person who happens to be a dear friend. It's saddening and the helplessness of it all is something I wish upon no-one.

Football has lost a talent but it's his family that will feel the lost the most. My heartfelt condolences go out to the Speed family. 

This is Chris, signing off. 

P.S. I apologise if there is some satire in this post. I originally intended for this to be a rather sombre and serious affair but I've always viewed death as a time of reflecting and celebrating one's life, mourning can be done in private.

*The last time I did that was because I was looking at my current crush, Gillian Jacobs, from the brilliant show, Community)

Marriage made in Hollywood.

Ashton Kutcher and Demi Moore are no more (a pun, indeed).

Big surprise.

Kim Kardashian and some giant marry then divorce within months of getting hitched.

Big surprise.

The more outrageous, the more lavish, the more storm of press a wedding gets these days from Hollywood the more likely said wedding will have a chance of lasting about as long as me having to eat after a vigorous workout session.

About 30 minutes. And that's just me after an Arms session*.

I've always viewed marriage as committing yourself to someone that you love and cherish and will do anything to make your partner happy. "Get married for the right reasons" is what I've always maintained. What is with them and getting married after meeting for a week over cheap drinks and tapas? You know, when things are getting serious they'll start "shopping"** for a place together. A nest for them to come home to and roost.

Then, they break up after 2 months, citing incompatible ideals thus selling their pad for a cool couple of bucks. Well, millions are cool for them, mere mortals like you and I would be jumping for joy if we had a quarter of it.

Marriage in America is akin to their burgers; full of promise and wonder but ultimately loaded with fat and grease that you no longer want anymore.

This is Chris, signing off. 

P.S. Speaking of burgers, man, I want me one.

*If I do Back, Chest or Legs, it'll be 15 minutes. I kid you not.
**Honestly, celebrities "shopping" for a new place is depressing. It's as though they are shopping for socks.

It's been a while, no?

Wow, time has passed real quick. For one, I no longer am the emo bugger that used to well-up at the mere mention of "Family", "Malaysia", "Food". (I do well-up if I see my family's picture. Or when I see Malaysian food.) Last post of mine was in July. July! My goodness, I used to get all pissy and agitated if I didn't post something by the week and here I am, posting something 4 months later.

But, better late than never, right?

The reasons why I haven't been blogging:

• Work - Ever since I started work in Singapore, my once mundane work life is no more. 
• Gym - Lifting weights + After working hours + Late dinners = Massive mushy brain. 
• My English is crap - One of my favourite things in the world is to read. Sadly, and painfully to admit, reading has taken a back seat. A back seat all the way back of Chris's Bus of Things to Do. The free time that I had was either taken up by the PS3 or watching Arrested Development. However, I am happy to say that I am picking up books again and reading them. Yes, reading! And not just looking at the cover and wishing I was reading them but actual reading! With my eyes! Okay, enough of the abuse of !. Seriously, though, I find that my having not reading has deteriorated my English. When I read, I would check the grammar, the punctuations, and so on. Heck, even on Facebook I cringe whenever I post something as innocuous as a one-liner as it will inconceivably be grammatically wrong. I am happy to announce that I am starting to pick up reading again and it's a joy. Not to mention my grammar has somewhat been saved from the sharks of imbecility. 

I don't know when my next post will be but I hope it won't be four months down the road. I wish everyone well and stay beautiful!

This is Chris, signing off. 

P.S. Yes, I've actually had to dumb-down my English here in Singapore. Can you believe that?

Holding on to what I haven’t got.

As I write this, the surroundings are getting more familiar. The sights and sounds of the things around me are starting to become second nature in my mind's eye. (Though, I must say that I wouldn't mind the damn birds disappear and never return. Preferably in the form of crispy chicken.) I am getting used to the things here; escalators escalating people at a pace that would make people back home tumble as they get off, buses braking with so much force that not holding to anything would lead to face on floor, putting tissue paper on to tables and then coming back to the table with the tissue and a place to sit and eat.

But I yearn for the comforts of home. My real home.

It's been a month since I left home to come to Singapore. I left because I wanted to take total control of my life and career. In terms of career, if I was still in Malaysia, I have enough experience to go quite far but I'd still be fighting to get the best parts of the job. Definitely not a good thing since I want to settle down in the next 3 years or so. So, I threw my resume to only one place and that one place grabbed it and hired me.

Sounds good, right? I thought so, too. But that was when my family and girl were still around. Nothing could've warned me of the roller-coaster of emotions I was going to endure. I had no clue whatsoever that the homesickness was going to be so profound. I never could have imagined that I would just shed tears whilst walking down to the bus stop to get to work because of the sorrow and heartache I was feeling. Even after a month, I still feel a void.

The day me and my family parted, I embraced them, said I love them very much and hopped into the train. The journey back to the apartment was the most emotionally numbing experience since the day my dad passed away. As each station whizzed by me, an abyss in my heart and soul came to be. I cried every time I saw them on Skype. In a strange twist of fate, I have come to love my family even more than I ever imagined. I am saving all my leaves so that I can come home and spend as much time with them as possible. Heck, I've bookmarked all the airlines and bus companies websites so that I can get a ticket and head home for the weekend.

The plan was for me and my girl to come here, to start anew and establish ourselves. Sadly, she's not here. Yet. And that pains me greatly. With family, you know you will have to leave them eventually and that wherever they are that's home. Being apart with my RM kills me. We have to keep reminding ourselves that this is temporary, that we will be together and the pain would be a distant memory. But it is the journey getting there that greatly hurts the soul. We are not giving up on her coming here, till then, we will have to travel back and forth every month otherwise the heart will suffer. It drains the bank account but it's something that needs to be done.

They say time will heal all wounds. I should know, I've used that numerous times. As corny as this may sound, love is keeping me sane.

If only love could pay some of the bills as well.

This is Chris, signing off.

P.S. Also, I seem to keep abreast with Malaysian news more than I did. Curious, no?

All good things must come to an end...

...or does it have to be?

Life is short. We make choices every day that defines the present and shapes the future. The past? The past is like a bookmark that you can go back to, review what happened, and learn from it.

Never stop experiencing life because life is experiencing. 

This is Chris, signing off.

P.S. Judgement day was yesterday. Yeah, nothing happened. Pfft.

Sometimes, you've got to believe.

Last week was, man, a week to remember.

What a traumatising week.

Training had been so-so. What I had intended to do ended up being half-baked. Strangely enough, it was doing an unplanned training for biceps that gave me the boost and pump I had been chasing. Oh, well. Shit happens.

But that was only the beginning.

Running at full tilt down the busy streets in the Golden Triangle of Kuala Lumpur must've been a sight to behold. I reckon you'd do the same if you've realised that your wallet is missing. Tearing through the Suria KLCC mall was no fun. It was crowded and people had seemed to contrive in a highly secretive and tacit way to block my way at every turn I took. My family was with me and I told them what happened and they helped by enquiring with the mall's security for help.

My mind was racing through thoughts of my IC is going to be used in drug-related crime, I'd have to cancel all my cards and worst still was having to buy a new wallet as the wallet I had lost was pretty darn nice. While the family checked with security I ran back to the gym as there was the last place I had seen my wallet. But, I knew it wasn't there because I remember distinctively I took it out to keep back the gym card. Yet, I still ran as fast as I could, hoping for a miracle.

You know how things happen for a reason? Well, stopping to catch my breath, I was approached by this gangly Indian fellow. Of course, I became wary as I was in an area (I took the shortcuts I knew which meant I went through secluded areas) where thievery had been reported. Panting, short of breath I looked at him, thinking he was lost or asking for the time. It was neither.

Indian Fellow: Sir, you are _____
Me: What??! (I was preparing to run away)
Indian Fellow: Sir, you have a very lucky face and _____
Me: (Off sprinting) What the fuck! Fuck you, man!

Traffic was relatively well-behaved so it was all right for me to criss-cross in between cars. After running for what seemed like for eternity, with lactic acid building up and muscles aching after punishing my body earlier, I felt my mobile phone ringing. I looked up to the sky, yelled silently, and answered.

If the relief emanated from me was tangible it would have been the size of a (mini) bus. The call was from the bank, informing me that the mall security had my wallet and they were asking me if I wanted to block it, just in case. From there, I called my family about it and told them I'd see them soon. Walking back to the mall, I was in a stupor. A mixture of alleviation and anger simmered in me, how on earth could I have been so careless. Crossing the roads, with beads of sweat trickling down my face, making my way turtle-like as my legs had turned to mush, I was hit a realization. I literally stopped and stood still for a while. My mind played back everything and came to the part where I encountered the Indian fellow.

What did he mean when he said those things? How could he have known I was in dire straits? Was he the kind soul that found the wallet and returned everything? I immediately dismissed him as some good-for-nothing vagabond for proclaiming me as lucky as, at that time, had lost my identity. With even more langurous movements from my legs, I willed myself to walk quickly and reclaim what was lost.

Things always happen for a reason. Sometimes you don't realise it at first but when you do, it'll strike home. Whether or not you believe in miracles or the equivalent it's entirely up to you.

As for me, on that day, I believed.

This is Chris, signing off.

P.S. To the person who found it and did what you did, you have my eternal gratitude.

Great minds think alike. Greater minds don't dress alike.

I'll be as brutally honest as I can be: I absolutely, friggin' abhor couples who wear the same outfits. It is not cute. It is not clever. It is not something to be proud of. In fact, you and your equally sloth-minded partner should bury your heads in shame.

Matching outfits only work if both are blind.

I see this trend infecting young and old. The young tend to have upturned collars and wear shorts. The old wear something similar but may share the same set of dentures. Why do they do it? They say ignorance is bliss and if that's the case these yobs are as guilty as Charlie Sheen.

The only time couples are allowed to even wear the same outfit is if it's for an event that requires them to be dressed in uniform. Apart from that, lay off the matching leotards and sequined blazers. Please, do not harm the children.

You wouldn't catch me and my girl wearing the same outfits. Never, I tell you.

Now, where did I leave that blouse...

This is Chris, signing off. 

P.S. Big news coming soon. Real soon.

Wow. It's been a while, eh?

What up, minions?

Oh, how time flies when your brain is nothing more than mush. I make no apologies for the absence, I just could not think of any worthwhile thing to say.

There is light, though. The brain is now "on" and I've a couple of things lined up in the coming weeks. Interesting times are abound, my friend.

But I must leave for now and return to my lair and meditate.

This is Chris, signing off. 

P.S. This post was brought to you by Charlie Sheen's Tiger Blood.

Japan, I heart you.

I may have yet to visit you but I'm sure I will some day. Till then my heart goes out to all who have perished, surviving and living.

The land of the rising sun shall arise again.

This is Chris, signing off. 

P.S. Funny how the Whites of the good ole US of A haven't had 101 concerts in support of this tragedy.
P.P.S. Where's Bono, by the way?

White supremacy does exist.

People either look at me like I am a leper or I have unsightly boils all over my body when I order food. Even the auntie at the mixed rice shop gets unhappy when I ask for less rice as though I have committed an unpardonable sin. But nothing beats the look of utter contempt I get when ordering black coffee from you know where. Conversely, when a wizened old man with a belly the size of Singapore comes in his short shorts and knee-high white socks questions what's in an ice-blended banana chocolate drink the same server will instantly stand upright and flash a smile worthy of being in a cheap Kodak pictorial for midgets.

Yes, I know I have spoken of the above in the past but I am revisiting this with a wider spectrum. Recently, after being acquired by hillbillies with better suits, the company I am in now has seen it fit that we should abandon our comfortable ways and embrace Americana. In an oily, greasy, cholesterol-packed way typical of their jumbo burgers, naturally. You see, partner (said in an accent that would make Jeff Bridges' character in True Grit nod in respect), the way has been set and the way shall be met. I don't know whether it was a lackadaisical almost bordering on whimsical err of character on some boss's part or the deadlines to accomplish certain tasks were given at such notice it threw everyone out of balance. Whatever the reasons are, the ball to get things rolling has started rolling, all right, but it's rolling at a pace that is flipping the panic buttons of some people with the Eject button being last resort lest they be crushed under the weight of (unjust) expectation.  

Asians have always been subservient to the wishes of the Whites, not West. People mistake the West as being the all-conquering but it is the Whites that still hold the trump card even when they don't know they have the trump card. You see, we Asians have been pandering and wanting to be like the Westerners for so long that everyone has become inured, numb from all the kowtowing and ball-licking of our forefathers that it's business as usual for the Asians to slog the night away trying to solve an issue. You want to go home at 5:30PM? Sure, go right ahead. But don't forget to look down and have tunnel vision because the stares of incredulity of going home on the dot will be thrown at you like daggers in the night. But, it it's in the UK or US, pray, tell me why we're still here? To the pub we go, amigos!

However, not all is gloomy. After decades of being mocked at for being dog-eating, infatuated with concubines and guilty of promoting rice bowls as apparatuses for haircuts China is now turning the tables on the Whites. Now it seems the Whites are very keen on expanding their businesses into the former Communist-loving country of a gazillion chicken feet dishes. India doesn't count because Indians are still universally looked down upon.

We have to be realistic, of course. The time of White supremacy is slowly coming to an end. A balance of power will emerge and things will be for the better. I am confident of it. Change won't come overnight. I might be able to see its birth but I doubt I'll see it growing up.

This is Chris, signing off. 

P.S. For all of us who tirelessly make the lives of Whites easier, I raise my glass of cold water to you and salute. You deserve it.

Learn to walk, fool!

The weather was, if I'm being honest here, absolutely hot.

Wait, make that absolutely, mindbogglingly, friggin' hot.

The 3 days in Singapore proved to be a colossal marathon session that I didn't even sign up for. There are a lot of things that irk but nothing irked me more* in Singapore than the damn people's walking sense. Yes, walking sense. I was bumped, smashed, knocked, by people of all ages. Yes, even a child would walk right into me but thankfully I averted my course in the nick of time because the child's trajectory was heading straight to the nebula that is my crotch.

One of the biggest pet peeves has to be people walking whilst reading. I know reading is good for you but have some common sense. When you're intensely reading the latest gossip surrounding that Bieber thing you inadvertently walk right into my path. I swerve to the side, shoot you a scowl worthy of being called Scottish, yet you walk on by reading about that Bieber thing.

I don't get it when people walk up the escalator when the staircase is empty and is yours to frolic about if it pleases you. No, you expect me to move aside, with nary a polite muttering of Excuse Me and you have the courtesy to hit me from behind with your large buttocks. Use the stairs, moron. Your hamstrings and glutes would look better, too.

Of course, this also happens in Malaysia. Sometimes it's worse, you get teenagers giggling and taking up the entire walk path and they're walking at a pace of 1 step per eternity. Don't get me started with the Middle Easterners who are here. They are absolutely the worst. They can see you coming a mile way yet they still contrive to either block your path or walk right into you. Yes, I know your country spoils you rotten as hell but when you're abroad and on someone's turf you show some respect. All that oil will run out and you will be left with sand and mega buildings with the only inhabitants being cockroaches. Wait, that's the same thing. Nevermind.

This is Chris, signing off.

P.S. Anyway, the idiots in Singapore couldn't tarnish the wonderfulness of the trip. Singapore maybe the most artificial country I've been thus far but it's the best artificial country. Kudos to kiasunism!

The beginning of the end?

This could be the beginning of the end, folks.

Or, it could not be.

Stay beautiful, beautiful people.

This is Chris, signing off.

P.S. I have a craving for ice-cream.