Muscle Tearing, Cardiac Risk Workout.

There’s a new workout I just discovered that ensures you get an all body muscle development. No muscle groups are left out and there are no intervals or sets to worry about. Some running is thrown in to ensure you do not forget to pump the cardio part too. You do need to ensure you have at least one of these equipments to get started. Though for beginners, it is strongly advised to start on the lighter weights like a couple of kg first. You do not really want to overstretch your biceps or triceps while in the midst of a full workout. The last thing you need is to have your spinal disc pop out of its position while doing the grandfather clock routine.

I signed up for a trial membership recently and it was exhausting. The name of the workout is kidscercise. Oh yes ladies and gentlemen I kid, pun totally intended, you not. Kids are your best workout if you do not have the time to head for the gym nor the money or the body. They make you carry them though they can walk perfectly fine, make you swing them like a pendulum in a grandfather’s clock and hang on your neck while your exhausted biceps take a break from carrying them. They work you harder than your gym fitness instructor and they do not give you gentle encouragements to go for that one last bench press. They are relentless and will demand you for one more lift, one more swing, and then before you can even catch your breath, they are back for another round of catch me while I jump off this step.

It’s the ultimate workout series which will leave you wondering which will end first, the workout or your heart. To cap it all, the exhausting workout requires a final a sprint trying to catch one of them running off to complete the full session of anaerobic and cardiovascular workout. I do not recommend you starting off with both a 5 year old and a 2 year old at the same time though I thought it would be a synch. I ensure you, unless you have been a regular gym enthusiast and by that I mean you really working out your muscles and heart and not your eyes, starting off with a 6 months old would be a much better idea and progress along the way as you build up your stamina.

One thing great thing about this workout is you do not need to sign up for any fancy gym membership nor head to one fix location to get your muscles and heart pumping. You can do it anywhere, at home, at the shopping mall, at your friend’s home. The only thing you need though is to get your own kids or borrow one from a friend who actually owns one. You really do not want to end up doing your workouts in prison. I do not think carrying grown men and doing the grandfather clock routine is quite the same.

MDFT

Given the nature of my work, people tend to associate me with a lot of running. By running I mean serious marathon running where you pound the road on endless lengths of miles. The very thought of running makes me ill. My body rejects exercise. I swear every time I go for a run, the distance akin to a marathon runner doing their pre run stretches, I fall sick. My heart migrates to my knees, my kidneys surface to my chest, I forget my mother’s maiden name and I lose all control of my limbs after 5 minutes. If you ever see some guy running like he is trying to fly, feebly flapping his arms, legs wobbling as it strides forward combine with a major asthmatic wheezing, it is probably me. Cruise up and say hi. I’ll try to return the greeting. Do not take offence if it sounds gibberish. It’s a ‘hi’ attempt at my precarious state.

My brains must have been fried to even make a decision like going for a run. What is wrong with it??!! My body isn’t made for such physical test. It is soft and needs a lot of creature comfort like a nice ergonomic shape sofa with plush memory foam cushions to support my heavy head while I lie there watching re-runs of Friends downing a tub of Ben & Jerry’s Chucky Monkey. No, it is not a reference to my chucky state.

So just because I advise customers on their gait, assess their foot type, talk about shoe technology, match their foot to the right pair of shoe while listening to them regale their stories on their runs people assume that I must run too. So where do you run? Are you taking part in the coming marathon? I always tell them the same thing. Different bodies are made for different running distances. Some bodies are made for long distances, some middle distances and some for short distances. Mine’s made for ultra short distances. My specialty event is the MDFT – Mad Dash For Toilet.

My technique for personal best is to down a carton of fresh milk and wait for it. I am lactose intolerant. Then I hold it back till it threatens the last frontier before I do my sprint. Not quite world record yet but I am working on it. I sometimes also compete in the DFLCD – Dash For Last Chicken Drumstick. This requires a lot of agility, speed and brilliant acting. You cannot let your competitors know you are eyeing that very last piece of delicious Kentucky Fried Chicken lying on a greasy plate. You got to act nonchalant, that you have no utter desire for it so that the others will let their guard down before swooping down like an eagle on its prey.

Victory belongs to the fastest. Say’s who this is not the same as an Olympic event. While not quite the gold medal around your neck but then you can’t eat that now could you? What use is that when you are starving? Don’t you dare try for that last Chicken wing, I got my eyes on you.

I Don't Know The Real Name.

I just learnt something odd on a visit to the company’s overseas branch office. While having lunch with some new colleagues I casually asked this new guy who is who when it came to names on the emails I had received from them. As I had just popped into the new office and took a glimpse of everyone there and wasn’t formally introduced, I had no opportunity to learn their names. So the best way was link their faces to their emails as I had been previously corresponding with some before heading over. He looked at me and went ‘I only know their nick names. I do not know their real names’.

I looked at him and burst out laughing as I found the concept hilarious. Imagine you only know all your colleagues's baby names given by family members and when the courier guy comes and say I have a parcel for so and so, the receiving person will come into the office yelling do we know anyone named so and so. My new colleague went on to add his nick name is ABC but his real name is ……..a 250 letter worded name.

Told him his nick name is fine by me. I do not need to learn his real name nor that of the rest of the colleagues. All nicknames suit me perfectly over here! I figured it’s a lot easier to remember 2 to 3 letter names than their actual names with practically all the letters in the alphabet thrown in, some with the same alphabets appearing more than 5 times.

So I guess my previous theory of changing my name to something unpronounceable to avoid getting more work will have to go back to the drawing board. I thought I was a genius! With a difficult name to call the boss would just pick someone else to do the work. You…err…… never mind, Tom you go get this done. But now I know better. He will just probably give me a nick name and I still have to get the work done. Damn nick names.

Dreadful Words & The Opposite Sex

Men dread receiving the following words from the opposite sex in no order of horror.

Nothing is wrong almost always mean EVERYTHING IS WRONG! You are in deep ass trouble and yet you have not the slightest idea what. Which makes it worst. You just turned EVERYTHING IS WRONG into YOU ARE SOOOO DEAD aka you are one step closer to meeting Satan.

I am fine is another variation to nothing is wrong except that you are not in deep a crap hole as the former. Usually when you get this you are mostly in the know of what you did wrong so you are not so dead. You are not scot free but still not in a good place. It just means you need to create a different sort of hole and it affects your pocket. Buy a lot of her favorite flowers. If you do not know what are her favorite flowers then you have taken a step back. You had officially just screwed yourself from this resolvable situation back into the nothing is wrong zone. Hello Satan again.

We need to talk is another one that hardly leads to anything good much less a fulfilling conversation. In fact we need to talk translates into you need to stop talking to each other forever. They usually start out calm for a few seconds leading to confusion and end up with not so much talking just mostly shouting, screaming, name calling, crying and in the end you cannot even recall what the need to talk is all about. Once the talk ends, so does the relationship.

I have a headache. Yes the pail of water dunk on your flames. Make that icy cold water.

Then there is the silent treatment which doesnt involve any words ironically because it is the nuclear holocaust of all words. They all die in this instance and the black and white movie world takes over. You shudder with this cold chill running down your spine. You will shift uncomfortably in your seat, you feel like your underpants has lost all its elasticity suddenly and everything is hanging loose inside including your ding dongs. The ultimate torture until her hand phone rings and it’s her best friend on the line. The sun is out! She is yapping away happily. A ray of hope for you now, fact that she is talking means no more silence and she may even throw you a bone. She hangs up the phone and the sun is engulfed by the massive black hole. No sun, no ray of hope. You find yourself struggling to gasp for air. You are back in North Point holding on to your ding dongs again.

You are my best friend. How does this become the dreaded word? If it is not coming from your other half but someone whom you wish is. It is the sucker punch. Takes the wind out of your sail and you find yourself walking with your head down with hunched shoulders. You become a zombie but not a very good one. You have no wish to go around scaring anyone like a good zombie should. You just hate being the best friend to the opposite sex you are attracted to. A guy cannot be a best girl friend to another girl. Physically it is just not possible. We don’t like to shave our legs.

The F Word Conversation

I never imagine a conversation like this can ever happen but it did and its’ been pretty hilarious to be using the F word without cringing as much especially when the other party isn’t a guy and she thinks it is insanely funny. What was a normal conversation on the internet became pretty out of control because of some emoticon I had showing a Storm Trooper, for the clueless the Storm Trooper is a character from the Star Wars trilogy, doing the humping motion at the car park. It popped out onto the screen after I had unknowingly hit some key word liberating him onto the screen to do his deed.

Now the problem was I had turned off the emoticons on my messenger so I did not have the slightest inkling as to what the other party was seeing on the screen. So when my friend said the Storm Trooper was funny and proceeded to share her version of funny emoticon doing the same motion. This is where it started to get insane as unknown to her, I cannot see any emoticon of hers and all I saw were the words ‘got one for you. f***’ appearing on my monitor.

You can imagine my moment of silence seated staring at my screen with a swear word peering back at me. What? What did I say? It took a whole eternal 2 seconds before it dawned on me it was the key to an emoticon from her. So the moment I turned my emoticon switch back to on and seeing her F*** emoticon, the rest of the conversation went the way of intellectuals. She had a funny looking emoticon, a stick drawing of a man doing the hump and his manhood swinging about like a limp sausage out on a thumping mission.

The F word dominated every sentence that was bounced back and forth with both parties trying to outdo each other with creative ways to throw her F at me and my F on her. ‘You got one funny F***!’ ‘Hit me with your F***’, ‘The Storm Trooper is a stupid F***’, ‘For a good F*** look for…’, ‘I need a good F*** do you have more?’ ‘One good F*** is better than none.’ ‘I have to admit yours is a good F***.’

Of course the inevitable was bound to happen. Keying in both her F*** emoticon and my humping Trooper to see if they both hump in synchronization. I suppose this conversation will go down on record as one with the most sexual innuendos without really going that way. Rib tickling nonetheless which I reckon will go on for another while each time we meet online.

For the record, they do synchronize after a while. Pretty gay if you ask me.

Spectacular!

So it’s been weeks since I started looking young and struggling to keep the goatee from getting jam in the paper shredder in the office. It’s hazardous keeping it to a nice luscious length. Some days it looks cool and my image right, other days it’s just a bad goatee day making me look like a terrorist. But I suppose its worth it as I found out the other day some of my colleagues who do not really know my ancient history thought I was 8 yrs younger than I really am and another pal’s new bride thought I was about that age too. I got to go get myself another dozen of these stupendously miracle eye frames! They say age is but a number. Yeah mine is now minus 8!

The thing that I am still waiting to happen is the hot young chicks bit. So far it’s been mostly the older ladies giving me the eye. Unless you count this cute youngish short chick on high heels who kept checking me out while I was listening to some cds in That CD shop as success, its been not really happening. She had this exotic mix look and was also browsing through a couple of discs wearing a translucent back floral top and a pair of tight jeans. Damn, if I wasn’t on an appointment!

Anyway, back to the older ladies I think it’s due to the spectacular, oh pun absolutely intended, success of the eye wear. They think I am some young dude and the young girls are not keen on young dudes but older men! Damn again! I never ever win!

School Player

It started innocently enough with two of my team members approaching me to join them in a game of table tennis after they had secured the services of another to help them make it a doubles team. And then it began. 'Did you know she was in the school team back in primary school?' gushed one of my team mates on the experience of one those participating in the upcoming game. I think it’s in me not to like losing so I replied instantly ‘I was also a school player in my primary school’. ‘Wow really??!! That’s so impressive!’ ‘Yeah I used to play table tennis in the SCHOOL canteen.’ I added.

You should have seen the expression on my colleague’s face after I said that. I was not sure if she was still impressed or really just stun into silence. I would really like to go with impressed but given the conversation that had just transpired, being stun into silence would really be more appropriate. Just then another colleague who overheard the conversation chipped in, ‘You know, I used to play interschool table tennis, I played it with my friends from different schools at the nearby community centre.’ That just wrapped up all there was to the conversation. We decided it was best to leave her still standing stunned while we headed out for lunch. She should recover sufficiently after we are back.

School seemed such a long time ago and I really remembered those days where we would head to the school early just to catch an hour’s worth of ping pong or table tennis in the canteen just before the school starts for the day. Then there’s always time for a match just right after a paper during the finals examination or in between the breaks before the start of another paper. It was little wonder I never really went far when it came to good grades. My mom never really understood why her hard working son would go to school so early daily but still struggle for a pass grade. I hope she never gets to read this!

So anyway, word got around that we were going to have a round of ping pong right after work and more decided they wanted in. Death matches have been set up and balls of fury, I love that movie and Maggie Q of course, will be served come this Friday. We were talking about the upcoming game over lunch and one colleague lamented that she doesn’t play table tennis and another said we should play basketball because she’s better in that game.

I couldn’t resist it. With my greatest charm and grin, I turned to her and said ‘Basketball? I can play that. I used to be a school player.’

Fountain Of Youth Discovered.

So right after depressingly being addressed as an uncle by a real life uncle and by real life I mean 20 years older than myself, I needed to seek out the fountain of youth. The one that will make me young again, least looking younger than someone clearly 20 years older than myself. And the answer to the miracle of youth aside from attempting to consume goat’s placenta is simply $460.

Yes, I had once again made the plunge into the world of expensive eye wear. A pair of turtle shell frames which will turn back the clock. Add a 5 day old goatee and tada! I am now officially 6 months younger than I was minus the magical glasses. Put back on my old frames and I aged immediately. Put that new one on and wala! It’s a time machine. Oh yeah. Best investment EVER! I bought 6 months of my life back. Well, sort of.

These are magical frames and I am convinced they make me young again because today when I was having lunch with my colleagues, one who is just sweet 21 was sprouting some youngster lingo and I totally got it! The rest of my colleagues seated next to me couldn’t figure out what she was saying and they are in their 20s! What did I tell you? They are really magic glasses. I am dead certain if I take them off and replaced with my previous frames that same colleague would seem to be speaking Greek. Put them back on and she’s speaking perfect English. Nice.

Those who convinced me that turtle shell frames are perfectly suited for me and they make me look young again claimed these classy glasses will turn in the chicks. Young chicks will be crumble for the look of a powerful young achiever who has the world at his feet. Ok a major overstatement but thanks for the effort people.

Unfortunately the only chicks I had managed to get take more than a couple of looks at me the past 5 days were mostly matured ladies. My colleague was certain that one of the matured lady intentionally did a Sharon Stone on me while we were out for lunch a couple of days ago. But thats debatable. No doubt some of the mature ladies were pretty hot but it’s not quite the promised land of young hot chicks. But I suppose 1 out of 2 isn’t half as bad. I guess the in thing now is older ladies dating younger man. Hmmm…looks like I just stumbled on another fountain of youth. Dating ladies clearly older than yourself! I am a genius! See what did I tell you about the magical glasses? They make me smarter too.

The Wrong Side

So every once in a while you tend to forget how old you are, sometimes deliberately and sometimes you just simply forget because you are really old and age tends to mess with your memory. Just the other day I was talking to my colleagues and they were trying to work out the age differences of those of us hanging around the pantry and I couldn’t be sure of my age. I had to actually do a mental calculation deducting the year I was born against the year we are in only to discover to my horror I was on the wrong side of thirty. Very wrong. Oh my god! I AM OLD! A couple more years and bam I’m on a different scale except this time on the right side of forty. Not much of a consolation that is though.

Some of my colleagues were discussing on buying the lottery and since the numbers we had to pick from were from 1 to 45, we decided to buy everyone’s age as our lucky numbers. I went through the digits and they were like 22, 23, 24, 27 and then it jumped a whole decade plus to 38. The only saving grace from the whole exercise was that there was another number after 38. Again it wasn’t that much of a consolation.

Just when you think it couldn't get any worse, reality check hits you right smack in your face and you are called an uncle. In this part of the world where we live in, the term uncle doesn’t always make you a relative of the person calling you that. Generally, it’s used loosely on someone who is more of an elder as a form of respect.

Now, I’m fine being termed an uncle, don’t get me wrong but I’m not so fine being called an uncle by someone clearly older than myself by a good 25 years! That’s just depressing! My company had organized a sale recently and some UNCLE approached me and started a small talk about how he’s not sure if his son who is in his late teens will like the design and color of the shoe he just picked and all. Since it was a lull period, I decided to be a good salesman by participating in his conversation.

And then he did the unbelievable. He called me UNCLE! He is bloody in his 50’s and he called me an UNCLE! U.N.C.L.E.!!!! ‘Eh uncle the shoes cheap huh, all past season huh.’ *Wink* ‘How often you guys do sales like these huh uncle? ’ *Wink* I had a good idea where the shoe he picked for his son was going to go after he called me that. Right into his mouth, down the esophagus and out of his ass that’s where! And he had this habit of trying to do a cool charming dude act with a wink every now and then when he passed some comment which he thought was smart like ‘cheap because its past season’, ‘shoes are all from china today’, ‘some shoes don’t last but your brand is the most lasting’ ‘my face is crinkled and needs ironing but I have no idea why I called you uncle still.’ Alright he didn’t say the last bit but he is in his 50s and for some reason he felt compelled to address me respectfully as an elder of the clan.

Now nothing thrills me to bits than to be recognized as a leader of a clan which are generally helmed by people in their 80’s or look 80. So, thank you uncle for making my day. I finally get the respect I had hankered for my last 38 years. I am now officially an uncle. I need to go eat some goat’s placenta. Anyone know of a sale going on for that?

Brain Check

I came across this quiz on the papers the other day and had a bit of fun trying to work out the puzzle.  If you are into a workout of a different sort, try this one.  I think its pretty rewarding when you finally figure out the answers.

Essentially you used the clues given and try to figure out which is the right answer in the table and fill it all up.  Go on, give it a go.  It’s rather challenging, well for me anyway but could be a walk in the park for you.  I managed to get it all right so that was a nice feeling knowing that I am not as mentally challenged as my school results claim!

QUESTION : WHO SPEAKS GERMAN?

	HOUSE 1	HOUSE 2	HOUSE 3	HOUSE 4
COLOUR
PERSON
INSTRUMENT
LANGUAGE

1. The piano player lives right of the drum player.

2. The green house is occupied by the bass player.

3. The drum player lives in the third house.

4. The bass player lives in the first house.

5. Francis plays the trumpet.

6. The trumpet player lives in the red house.

7. Charlie speaks Japanese.

8. Bobby lives left of the Italian speaker.

9. The French speaker lives right of the grey house.

10. Edward lives in the brown house.

END OF CLUES.

Source : Tan Kin Lian’s Intelligence Quiz.

ANS :

	HOUSE 1	HOUSE 2	HOUSE 3	HOUSE4
COLOUR	GREEN	RED	GREY	BROWN
PERSON	BOBBY	FRANCIS	CHARLIE	EDWARD
INSTRUMENT	BASS	TRUMPET	DRUM	PIANO
LANGUAGE	GERMAN	ITALIAN	JAPANESE	FRENCH

Hits the nail right on the head

I've been too lazy to write and pretty busy of late so here's something I read the other day which I absolutely agree.

Food for thought - ' Nobody is worth your tears, and the ONE who is won't make you cry. '

Ditto that. Couldn't agree more.

I was right!!!!

I knew it! My gut feel was correct about my impending lottery big win! Blah to all the fortune tellers who said this year is not a good year for me in lucky money wins! Neh Ni Neh Ni Boo Boo. I won! I won the recent lottery. The prize money was a cool 1.7 million buckerooos! Ahhhhh I can smell the scent of my dollars and the look on the lottery counter lady’s face as I cash out my winnings. Every single piece of a whole sweet $20. Ten pieces if she gives me in $2 or two pieces if she gives me in tens. Whooyeah! Who’s your daddy now eh!

Alright so it’s not that big prize winner I was predicting myself to be. But hey $20 is still the start of the road to my big money, the elusive bucket of gold at the end of the rainbow. There’s still plenty of time to go before the year ends and this year 2009 is THE year that I am going to collect my riches. Thank you Singapore Pools, my favorite other uncle that’s not really my uncle but its like an uncle that gives you money for no reason other than you being good for the year. No wait I think that’s Santa Claus. You know what I mean right? Who cares what you think. I still have the whole of April to December to fulfill my dream. Let’s see who will be laughing then wise ass!

Ok so I didn’t win the latest lottery but this Wednesday it’s my turn to hold the cheque of 2.2 million. Yeah let me see you cry because you are missed out on the ‘to treat’ list for being a non believer. I will so win that! If not there’s still another 8 months to go. Stop laughing. Bugger off. I hate you all. Maybe I should just save my $20.

It's good to be awaken.

Frequently your heart rules your head and makes irrational decisions that usually comes back to haunt you. Even though the rational part of you, your brain, says you shouldn’t do something, the heart will accede and over rule what is best for you. Hence I guess it’s only right the heart is the one that gets hurt the most since it makes the dumbest call. Most of the time, the sentimental bit in you thinks there’s always a possibility of things working out between yourself and your other half when it didn’t go right the first time round. Especially when things are seemingly improving and the thought arises that maybe it didn’t get off the right footing the first time round. This is the heart talking here. The head will go ‘dude, if it didn’t work out the first time, it’s probably right.’ The heart will go ‘but she’s putting in more effort then ever before, more attention then ever, maybe she has decided that you are what she really miss.’ ‘I say give it another chance, you deserve it.’

This is the time when the hurt gets even more painful when you realized that the leopard never really changes its spots. It gets worse when you find out that all you believe in her are just lies that she pans out frequently to mask what she really is thinking and doing while you are unaware. Least she thinks you are. So I say, the lies you discover the second time around are the best because they finally awaken in you that your heart was the fool and the head is always right. They clear up all the mist that is preventing you from thinking clearly and while the heart has to smart from its second attack, time will eventually heal all pain.

It’s good to be awaken.

In My Elements

So last Friday, my elements were all in place. There I was seated next to not one but two cute babes, in between them to be exact. One had short hair with nice big eyes, pouty lips and brooding look. I don’t know why she wore that look all the time but I am sure it wasn’t me that caused it. Maybe it’s her style. The other had this wet look with her hair, cheeky smile and very in your face type. They were just two extremes from each other. One just gives you the look and doesn’t talk much. The other just couldn't stop talking. She tells you stuff that you sometimes don’t really need to know but she’ll let you have it anyway. Every once a while she’ll give you a friendly jab in your ribs to let you know that she’s still around and I have not fallen asleep with her constant jabbering.

Alright, I’ll admit. My elements weren’t exactly that in place, more like all over the place. I was seated between my buddy’s two kids. The one who doesn’t talk much because she is just one and I think the only word she did utter the whole evening was an uurh. Maybe it was more of a wuurh. I couldn’t really make it out but I think she was trying to tell me to pick up the biscuit she dropped between her baby seat and her dress as she was pointing to it. Maybe she was saying dumbass because I couldn’t really understand her. The other one who is coming five was wearing a wet look because she just finished tearing down the lanes of East Coast Macdonald’s on her shinning red skate scooter with wheels that light up when in motion and matching shinning red safety helmet. She was in my face because she wants to clean her sticky hand filled with ketchup and fillet o’ fish mayo on my cheeks. Lucky for me I was much taller so she had to make do with my pants.

I have this sneaky feeling that every time my buddy arranges a hang out dinner thing, I’m asked to go because they needed a baby sitter. The kids’ entertainer so the parents can get to eat their dinner in peace while I do this peek a boo thing with them. I made a mistake once doing that and it became a repeated act over the next hour. I did the stunned look when one poked me with her tiny finger and it drew shrills of delighted laughter from them. I thought hey that’s not too difficult. Bad judgment call. I had to do that another hundred times over the next hour till my system literally went into shock from all the muscle cramp in my facial expression.

Next Friday I’m making sure I get real babes. Not real babes as in babes because they are really babes but babes as in ladies babes. Arrrrgh. I have to realign my elements.

It's going to happen!

The winning prize to the local lottery was close to two million dollars the other week and there was only one lucky person who can lay claim to it. Well we do not really know if it’s just a person or twenty other co office workers who have shares to the same winning ticket. What lousy luck then, two million becoming one hundred thousand overnight. But of course it is still a pretty sum of money if you aren’t greedy like me.

So there I was comparing my ticket in hand against the winning numbers. The first winning number matched the first number on my ticket! Hey good start I thought. The second winning number matched the second number of my ticket too! Awesome! A bead of cold sweat came trickling down my forehead. My hands turned clammy. I realized that I could be that sole winner, the one on the road to riches!!! Woooooooo yeah baby! My eyes turned to the third winning number and that’s where it went downhill from there. Like a striker on route to scoring the winning last minute goal to clinch the World Cup and he trips and misses the gaping open goal. What an anti climax.

2009 started with a whimper for the world economy and everyone’s edgy with their rice bowl. But not me because I have this very strong feeling 2009 is going to be my year. The year I’m going to be rich! Rich! Rich! Rich! Woohahahahahahah.. chokes… cough…cough…cough. I need to work on my Dr. Evil laughter. I don’t know why it needs to be that type of laughter. Maybe it’s because money is the root of all evil? Anyway back to my riches story, well not yet but soon. Despite the negative write up on the year for my zodiac sign which states no luck in the lucky money department, I snorted at the report. Who are those experts anyway to poo poo my instincts. I’m master of my instincts, I’m going to win the big lottery and it’s going to happen!

This year! 2009! I’m adamant. It’s in my gut. I’ve been planning the distribution of my wealth in all possible formulation, worked and reworked it till perfection. I deserve to be a winner. 2009 is the year that’s going to make me riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiich! Ok, so that’s what I said in 2008 and the year before that and the year before that and I vaguely recalled making that claim too in 2005. Oh shut it. I hate you all. Oh well there’s always 2010.

Flag Day

So today my colleague who’s seated next to me walked back from the ladies and announced to me “I’m Bleeding!!!” Under normal circumstances when I hear something like that I would either a) pass out cold, b) call for an ambulance, c) call for an ambulance and pass out cold or d) call for two ambulances, one for her and the other for me and then pass out cold. In her case, I know that she always never mean what regular people would understand from a statement like “I’m bleeding”. It’s only her time of the months’ non fatal lost of blood. But having said that it also means sounding the air raid warning sirens and scrambling for any cover you can find. Save yourself for the love of god! It’s D Day! Stay away from a non fatal bleeding woman or you could be the one who is bleeding fatally.

I mean how do you know if a girl is just in her regular cycle and not plain crazy? Unless you are her boyfriend, husband, lover, you never really keep track of the dates. Then again even if you do watch the dates, you could have remembered it wrongly and end up being congratulated for being a newbie parent. Of course there are times you are just lucky to be seated next to one who is kind enough to give you a head start or you may innocently walk into a mine field.

How do you really know if it’s safe or it’s time to fly low and stay low? I have an idea. Create a mini flag pole with 3 different colored flags, a Yellow flag, a Red flag and a Green flag. When she raises a Yellow flag, it signals an impending air raid but you are still free to roam around, just always stay close to cover. A hoisted Red flag signifies a nuclear holocaust. Godzilla has been awaken and risen from the deep sea tearing any brave, well dumb would be a more appropriate word in this instance, man apart should he stand in her way. A Green flag is everyone’s favorite. The guy’s favorite anyway. It’s the all clear sign that you are able to skip about carefree. You can even venture a couple of teasers and you won’t get your eyes stomped out with a stiletto. You may actually earn a giggle from her or even win the first prize – some happy time.

For the sake of all dumb mankind’s subsistence and preventing us from being consign to extinction will someone please build this flag pole. If it doesn’t work, then maybe some lucky ones may get a pole dance by his lady on a green flag day. Providing he can still see with the stilettos sticking in his eyeballs.

Two big heavy balls

Recently I had been experiencing some joint pain on the finger next to my index. That’s right, my middle finger. It felt like it’s been bruised badly and whenever I rubbed it, hurt like I had slammed it on something concrete. I don’t recall getting it injured nor used it for any other activity that may bring a certain pleasure to my ex girlfriend. Nope, she didn’t ask for me to help her relief an itch on her back by scratching it the past couple of months so that couldn’t be it either.

Maybe during one of my driving excursions I had to express displeasure at a fellow driver’s antics on the road and showed him what I really thought of him at that moment. Maybe he stopped his car, came over and showed me what he thought of my way of expression with my middle finger. Maybe he crushed my middle finger or slammed it shut on his car door repeatedly. Maybe the pain was so excruciating that I blocked that scene out of my memory which would explain why my finger feels like its badly bruised and I don’t have a single recollection of how it happened. Maybe.

Or maybe not, as recently my pinkie finger started displaying similar symptoms. Same type of bruised feeling and honestly, no one uses a pinkie to exhibit your anger at another person. So that really rules out my middle finger escapade too. I think its something less sinister or more pending on how you look at it. It’s a sign that my aging body is starting to get lazy. The blood flow that is. I think the big problem is the issue with the ‘chi’ in me, it is weak. A little like how Anakin Skywalker ended up joining the dark side.

So I was telling my dad about it and he came out of his room with this huge set of balls in a box and passed it to me. It’s the type you see in movies filmed with ancient China as central themes where usually either some evil kung fu master is seen using it or the emperor would rotate them in one hand. Basically it is two balls sized like a super inflated ping pong ball each and made of either metal or cold marble. What you do is you put them on your palm and skillfully and very carefully rotate them around on your palm.

Believe it or not, it works like a miracle. Ten minutes of that rotation of the balls on my palm and the joints actually started to feel less painful! I was skeptical when my dad passed them to me initially but really I figured what more harm could happen except when I drop them on myself. It works! It really works! My two fingers felt a lot better and a lot less painful. The ‘chi’ is strong again.

A word of caution though. If you ever decide to try one of these miracle balls to improve your ‘chi’, you should really avoid dropping them while using it because that may present a different set of problems altogether. They weigh a ton each. Ok that’s just a figure of speech but it feels like a ton. Should you drop one of them on your toes, you may start showing middle fingers to everyone around you on the spot and they may not really take too kindly to your reaction. Then even the balls wouldn’t be of any help to your fingers bruising.

Either that or use them alone in your room. That way you are free to show all hand signs when accidents happen and still not have bruised fingers. You just have to figure out how to unbruise the toes.

Sleeping and Bad Karma

You know what just bothers the hell out of me. What makes me wake up really moody and ready to kick the first person I see? It’s a good thing my mom leaves home early or else it wouldn’t really be funny to be kicking your mom. It’s bad Karma man. Anyway what eats me up and keeps me in this mood are erratic sleeping patterns.

Have you ever experience waking up an hour or so before you are suppose to because you really need to pee? I mean REALLY NEED to pee. The kind you are not able to sleep it through. I tried doing that and the whole period I will be in this dream where I will keep looking for a loo and have a really good go but each time coming out still feeling the massive urge. The feeling like the job’s not yet done. Then I will go again to another toilet. So basically the whole dream runs into the same pattern. Heading to different loos releasing all stocks and still leaving feeling unsatisfied. It’s a good thing that dreams do not translate to reality or I would have changed my mattresses like hundreds of times.

So you drag yourself out of bed unwillingly with a willing bladder and head for relieve. After that is done, you go back to bed, bladder feeling good but then sleep is over. No matter how you will yourself to sleep, make pacts with the devil, you still cant sleep and then the alarm goes. Sleep is over time to get up. Arrrgggggggggggggh!

Another type of sleeping problem that I have and basically makes me ready to kill someone is you toss and turn the whole damn night staying wide awake. You watched as the sky turns black to slight orangey and just an hour or so before its time to get up, you fall into deep slumber. Then the alarm goes. You will really want to kill someone. Its great if you are about to fight a war but not so great if your mom is the first person you see in the morning. It’s bad Karma man. Really bad.

Coming Home and Old T's

This will be a short one ‘cos my slip disc is back. The pain is just annoying and I shouldn’t be sitting down so much. I felt I had to write this before I forget. I just had dinner with a couple of friends and I recalled a particular conversation with an acquaintance in a car as we were helping out at a friends wedding. We started to talk about all our girlfriends current and ex and their expectations and he on his ex girlfriends as he just got married. He said that he met his current wife and they went out only on a few dates before he decided that she is the one. After a few months of further dating as a couple, they made the decision to get married.

I asked him what triggered it and he said this, which I felt made a lot of sense. He said when he is with her, it is so comfortable and vice versa. It felt like he had come home. It’s like when you reached home, the feeling is one of comfort and ease. I think he hit the nail on the head. If you are always fighting with your girlfriend or boyfriend you tend to want to not be with the other person till both cooled down or worked things out. You don’t think it’s a home you would want to come back to. You will always want to stay out as late as possible as it is not a place you want to be.

Ex girlfriend has this group of girlfriends which also included a guy who would call all the girls whenever he is alone. Whether he is driving to work, at work or driving out of work. All his conversations were mostly idle chats and I never understood why he would do that all the time even to my ex girlfriend. It was much later I figured it out. He is trapped in a relationship with his wife where he cannot divorce her and the only way he can escape from his personal hell was to talk to everyone but his wife. They allowed him to be himself and he can forget his problems. He will stay out as late as possible, hit home dead tired and head to bed. This way he doesn’t need to speak much with the wife. It’s a sad situation but again same reasoning as to not wanting to come home. Not comfortable for him.

Like another friend said, being in a relationship that works is like wearing a very old t-shirt. Doesn’t fit as well anymore because of the tenth thousand times you washed it but it’s still always the first you pick to wear to sleep because it is the most comfortable. Food for thought. Next time you want to know if the other party is the one, think of home and old worn pajamas t shirt!

WTF????!!!!!

Ok so I don’t always get it. So I don’t always click with everyone. Given my nature, it would be pretty hard for me not to be able to blend in with almost any group. A fact that can be attested by people who know me best or not. So I could never fathom why my ex has this strong need to engage in the company of this group of girlfriends of hers. Neither the topic nor conversation is least enchanting or funny. Well to me only I guess. I mean if at least one of them was funny, it would have been really hard to not want to be in their company all the time.

The worse is when someone tries to tell everyone something funny and the only person that’s really laughing is the same person, now that’s just really???? Which was how I felt when I accompanied my girlfriend then, and joined her girlfriends at a members club next to the sea. She loves the place and she loves them. I loved her dearly so I went along. The only person in the group apart from my ex whom I can talk with was not there so I can say they are boring. In all fairness, it was only that one night I was there with them when I made this judgment. No wait, I have hung out with them on other occassions before too. Ok it is official then, they are boring.

The topic sort of went like this….” Oh I said blah blah blah.” “Ha Ha Ha Ha” Note the laughter came from the speaker who had her fingers posed like some high society lady right after that statement while the other hand held nachos. The rest were having blank looks but wearing polite smiles. Fine I was the only one wearing a polite smile, the rest were smiling for god knows what. Then she proceeded to clarify, which I wish she didn’t, “Actually this was what happened….she said this, so I said this. And then she said this, so I said this and that’s how it all ended up with me saying this.” This was again followed by another round of Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha from the speaker mostly.

What the fxxx???!!! What the hell was that??!! It was because I came for my girlfriend and not for the company or I would have leaped over the railing and drowned myself in the open sea. Because I love her, I resisted this very big urge to reach over and choked her beloved girlfriend till she will never speak again. Either that or spanked her till she never dares to pretend to tell a funny story. IT’S NOT BLINKING FUNNY!!! I couldn’t even force out a chuckle. Not even when I tickled myself hard. My toes will drop off first before they can laugh at that.

Well, I never have to hang around them again or someone is not going to speak for a very long time. The only good thing that came out of my breakup with my girlfriend is I am no longer compelled to be with them as I am beginning to find a growing feminine side to me…being BITCHY!

Failure as a human being

I was in Bangkok recently for a holiday hoping to find a fickle of spark to rekindle my dying relationship, a hope in finding what was lost in transition over the past few months. Anyway that’s another story. What really made me re-look and re-think of myself as an ok decent guy was a scene which still haunts my memory till today though it was merely a couple of days ago. It was rather late around 10.30pm and I just had a really bad fight with my girl friend but we still decided to head for a badly needed massage. My back was bloody killing me and it felt ready to snap into two if I stood for another minute.

We walked really quickly hoping to still catch our intended massage at a nearby centre from our dining place before they closed. As we walked past the many tightly shut shops on the dimly lit street, I saw a plumb lady seated by the side of one of the closed shops cuddling a kid. Now if you have been to Bangkok, these would be a scene repeated many times over on many corners of the street. Poor people, poor children begging for some spare change you could throw down. As I turned the corner a memory of what I saw made me cringe at my indecisiveness to do a little charity. A small act of kindness to a fellow human being.

I thought I saw her cuddling a child who looked a lot bigger than most on the streets begging. The child likely to be a girl was plumpish like her mother, age perhaps 10 or 12 based on her size, and was all wrapped in a cloth like sarong. On her forehead rested a previously white face towel already covered in soot. The pace that we were walking soon took me far from where I last saw the lady whose child had her eyes closed like she was sleeping but the image of her was firmly etched into my head.

As we walked into the massage centre and took our respective packages paying some 500 baht each, I felt a sense of guilt handing the money over the counter without batting an eyelid to feel better about my back but yet hesitated in doing the same for the lady. Her child was likely to be running a high fever and given their plight probably couldn’t even afford medication and she had to resort to the basics of wet towel over the forehead. Soon the pain on my back was soothed away under the skilled hands of my masseur but the ache in my heart wasn’t.

We were done at midnight and we hopped into a taxi to head back to our hotel, to our comfortable king size bed with warm lights and designer fittings. As the driver sped away, we passed the scene where I last saw the lady and there she was still holding to her sick child tightly.

I closed my eyes and turned my head away in disgrace and disgust with myself. Ashame by the very thought that I failed as a human being to another.