One day we shall conquer the world with mangoes and love.

2009-07-20T18:41:00.000-07:00

There is something wrong with the blog updating page. I will attribute it to my lack of updates, but I'm lying. Again. There really is nothing to update about my life, except that I got a new blog layout.

Check it out, you guys.

It's one of the templates that Blogger has, but pretend, just for a minute, that it's a shining new star.

OK. So does anyone have the heart to make me a new layout, or point me in the direction of new layouts? I am not begging, but I will bribe you with the promise that I will update this blog more, because supposedly someone refreshes my blog every two minutes, and supposedly someone cares about my updates.

EDIT: Holy shit I realised the new layout got rid of ALL OF MY LINKS. Awesome. -_-

One soggy fry

2009-06-25T06:14:00.000-07:00

HELLO MA LOVELIES.

I am almost graduated.

Which means that I will be updating this thing more. I owe you, bloggerina, A TON OF UPDATES. That includes:

1. Australia photos!
2. Art
3. MUSIC REC!

Yay! To show my sincerity, here's a picture of Lord of the Fries.

FOR YOU A (if you're reading this still) ALL FOR YOU~~~ sorry I took so long! I'm uploading them for you right now. *kicks YSI because it's taking far too long*

I complain too much II

2009-05-19T07:42:00.000-07:00

I've been feeling a real urge to update lately. Lately as in, yesterday and today. This urge comes at a most unfortunate time, unfortunate as in, school and homework.

Sometimes I want to type these really emo entries, emo entries that will make people cringe and never acknowledge me as their friend again. But I stop myself because that thought scares me, and also the fact of slipping into self-indulgent hell is addictive as it is disastrous. I don't mean emo entries in the likes of Livejournal, I mean something more cataclysmic than that, more terrible, more awe-inspiring, like the stars of heaven crashing to Earth, the explosive heartbeat of fireworks in the starry night sky, the pulse of my heart as it whirls in the flames of fire...

Also there is an ad on the local internet that is really BUGGING THE HELL OUT OF ME.

Sometimes my mouse scrolls over this random ad, and I swear to GOD, this ad speaks to me.

So I'm scrolling over the page, my mouse touches an ad space, and in the middle of the night when all is deathly silent I hear a cry.

"NASI LEMAK."

This wouldn't have been so bad if the night, you know, wasn't so deathly silent.

Or if I'm listening to an emo song and we have gotten to the part where the character lay on the floor bruised and bleeding and broken and suddenly in the distant background you hear the echoes of a hoarse middle-aged man:

"NASI LEMAK."

No kidding. Nasi Lemak totally said in the voice of a hoarse middle-aged man who sounded like he ate too much Nasi Lemak.

Is this how advertisers decide on their ad?

COMPANY TO AD AGENCY: We want you to advertise our Nasi Lemak.
AD AGENCY: No prob. Now we need you to tell us your unique selling point.
COMPANY: Huh? As in why our Nasi Lemak so nice?
AD AGENCY: Yes.
COMPANY: Should be the sambal la... specially pounded by middle-aged workers in a dusty factory somewhere in Joo Koon...
AD AGENCY: Oh, oh! I just got struck by Bright Idea! We shall give you... a middle-aged man.
COMPANY: What.
AD AGENCY: A hoarse middle-aged man. After eating your sambal. Geddit?

The most annoying thing is that the ad appears everywhere that I am. I thought I had ridden myself of it after closing OneManga, only to open Dictionary.com to hear the same voice again. The first time I heard it I wondered if I had done something terribly wrong in a past life to warrant random people shouting Nasi Lemak into my ear. The second time it happened I assumed I was a goner. The third time, I decided I'd rather die in a locked room listening to rap the whole day.

No... just kidding. I'd rather not.

But still, that is one irritating ad. And I'm not quite sure what the advertisers are trying to achieve by bugging the hell out of their consumers, ie. me, a statistic that represents the entire consumer conglomerate.

The Creative License, Danny Gregory

2009-05-14T21:32:00.001-07:00

Australia post coming soon. I should make updating my blog my mid-year resolution, but nowadays it seems like I have no motivation to blog.

Besides that and screwing up piano, I am fine and dandy thank you. I have recently taken to eating a lot of fries, which apart from making for an extremely mind-boggling hobby, is probably also very destructive to my general well-being. Henceforth, my other mid-year resolution is to stop eating fries, or if that doesn't work, I resolve to eat less fries or to curb the craving by dowsing myself with cups of Chinese herbal tea.

There's a book, it's called 'The Creative License' by Danny Gregory that I recommend everyone, old and young and hungry, to check out. A long time ago, when the moon was rounder and people waxed lyrical, I had a poly lecturer and he was called Mr L, and he recommended us the book in class one day.

But don't mix up your facts people, because I found the book first in Kino, and I discovered the awesomeness way before Christopher Columbus discovered America and people migrated over in search of gold and a boy called Danny Gregory was born who grew into a man and wrote a book called the Creative License which, by the way, you should really check out.

All I am saying is: I discovered the book way before Mr L told us about it!

I have, obvs, the powers of foresight.

Anyhow, it's a great book that has none of them funny jargons and all of them awesome pictures. It's also an extremely fun book to have, especially one about creativity, because everyone knows creativity is about awesome pictures.

Here's an image of the cover:

Say it with me: I Steal Images from Google... Continuously!

Ho Hum. For a better review, you should probably check out Amazon.

Okay, that is all. I have decided... I have a sudden craving for fries! Wow! Never had one of those before! Brb!

Here bloggy bloggy, here bloggy bloggy

2009-03-22T19:54:00.000-07:00

HELLOOOO BLOG I'm really sorry to have neglected you I will attribute the lack of updates to my wholly boring life and the creative rut that I've gotten stuck in that I haven't had anything exciting enough to write Tom Dick and Harry about. Now that was a long run-on sentence and I'm happy to get it out of my system!

One of the worst ways to destroy your inspiration is to lock yourself up in a room for a week, and attempt to make the best out of it by drawing. I did try that for a couple of weeks, and by the end of everything I was sure every last drop of creativity out of me had been sapped dry as a sea sponge, and I probably couldn't laugh at a Russell Peters joke even if I tried.

I have decided that I will seriously blog about anything here, be it random thoughts, anime, rants, art updates, blah blah blah. By the way anyone reading this right now should go visit my DeviantArt and watched it like you've never watched a Deviantart before.

I've decided that life often surprises you in ways that you don't expect it to, even if you've turned it upside-down, inside-out, pondered all cracks and corners and predicted every inch of its details. It's often when you're least expecting it or when you think you've given up that something turns it around and twists it back to you, and you decide that the best and possibly the only way that your life should run is its natural and most unassuming course. :)

Haha.

2008-12-24T00:47:00.000-08:00

I was supposed to post a Twilight review but lately all I have been doing is being lazy and not updating my blog.

So a short one: Twilight proves that in the 21st century cheese remains sellable, and that girls (me included) will pay anything to have their fantasies fulfilled, including but are not limited to being dominated by bloodsucking control freak.

Also, also. I've watched Robert Pattinson in Harry Potter and I think he's the worst Edward Cullen. EVER. My cynicism is proven correct yesterday.

I am slowly and surely mending my broken relationship with art.

Me thinks this could work as a postcard. Yes, no, very yes?

Assignment, oo la la.

2008-12-16T06:10:00.000-08:00

What's interesting about an art history assignment is that you get to see the different styles of artists over a long span of time.

What's not interesting about an art history assignment is that it's an assignment.

My nose's reaction to this over time is incessant, prolonged itching.

Ben & Jerry's "chunkfest"

2008-12-06T07:11:00.000-08:00

WHOA, BABY. You know what's the part I hate most about updating journals? It's editing photos. I wrote this entry three days ago, wanted to post it up, then realised: I have not edited the photos. Three days later, I did it. Hurray!

Ben and Jerry's chunk fest is the worst chunk fest I've ever been to. There was no fest and there was no chunk, only a measly bunch of people gathered around wondering why the hell they were doing there.

Beautiful corporate branding. Tricks you everytime.

First of all, it was located at Fort Canning Hill.

Fort Canning Hill is a place full of danger and peril, especially for people who do not exercise. I was in pants and platform shoes, and by the time I climbed to the third flight of stairs I was huffing and puffing like a mad bull, feeling like I was made to exercise against my will for ice cream.

ME: WHERE IS THE ICE CREAM.
ANOTHER 50 FLIGHTS OF STAIRS: LOL

Halfway through the climb, I turned to my friend. "Can you believe," I said, "that we're actually exercising for ice cream?"

She gave an intellectual nod. "Perhaps this is a warm-up."

Another 10 steps and she wasn't so certain. "Perhaps," she said, "we should go home."

There were a bunch of people in front of us just as lost, and I could tell this from the way they were dressed: not the typical kind of wear you'd find at any nature park; fancy and dolled-up. In fact, they looked exactly like us: meandering around the place like lost sheep, acting cool by looking at road signs and trying to lead the way.

Everyone, I could tell, was lost. Everyone, I could tell also, was reluctant to cave in and ask for directions. Including my friend and I. In fact, I half-expected someone to have a mental breakdown and run screaming down the Hill.

"I bet," I said bitterly, "that in another part of Fort Canning Hill people are lapping at their ice creams delightfully and laughing at the idiots making up their way on 50 flights of stairs."

Finally, we reached the place.

In my wildest dreams, I pictured the fest to be held under great balls of disco lights and wild dancing people. There will be trucks of ice cream queuing up to be eaten. There will be mad dashes for free stuff. There will be stomachaches, but of the happy sort, after which I will write in my blog, "I HAVE EATEN TOO MUCH ICE CREAM," and go to bed dreaming happy dreams.

What I did not expect, however, was this:

A grass patch.

Yummy.

If you do not know what a grass patch feels like on a muddy day with your toes poking out, don't try it. Just... don't.

Now, normally that wouldn't have bothered me if I weren't in pants and platforms. But I was. In pants and platforms.

"Good thing I wore something shorter," my friend said thoughtfully to me.

Here's what the grass patch looks like with people:

To the right of the picture, there is a guy smiling at the camera. It's nice to see someone enjoying himself.

The place had a sad array of activities. There were a bunch of ice cream stalls lying around (Ben and Jerry's website says "12 EXCLUSIVE FLAVORS FROM USA") looking neither tasteful nor exclusive. In fact, I believed I only saw 3-4 stalls and maybe this is attributed to heat hallucinations, but I was more preoccupied with the 12 million people standing around the place. It was nuts, the queue for any stall was insanely long, and any previous thoughts of eating ice cream in calm and serenity were happily defenestrated. (Thanks, Facebook.)

There was also a stage and an emcee, emcee-ing to a bunch of people with more interest in ice cream than games.

EMCEE: AND NOWWW, FOR AN EASIER QUESTION-- WHO IS THE 44TH PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES?
ME: This is ridiculous.

We decided to queue at the stall with the shorter queue - with about 12 people in front of us. There was a signboard with a list of orders, and a window through which we place our orders. We looked at the signboard.

It says (according to my memory):

Flavours: Strawberry kiwi, Mango Mango, Lemonade,

Sorbert flavours: Lemonade, Mango, Strawberry, Life on the Beach...

"LIFE ON THE BEACH," we said in unison. "NOW THAT'S EXCITING."

All through waiting, I thought of what a medium-sized sorbert "Life on the Beach" ice cream would look like. It would be cold in our hands and freezing on our tongues. It would be huge and completely lovely. It would be reminiscent of life on the beach: dancing around half-naked in your pants and feeling the wind around your chest.

In front of me, the cashier girl picked up an ice cream cup, and I saw, to my horror that it was dreadfully small. Until she passed it to the girl standing in front of me.

My order came.

The girl handed me a medium-sized sorbert drink in a cup.

ME: ...I'm sorry? Is this- is this my order?
CASHIER GIRL: Yes it is...
ME: Er. This is no ice cream. WHERE IS MY ICE CREAM. Can I change my order?

To say I was shocked was putting it mildly. My mind did a double-take and went blank. Years of dreams came crashing down into a nearby drain, splashing mud onto my toes. I thought of taking the sorbert drink and just scurrying away from sheer embarrassment.

But I was a customer and therefore, unreasonable.

"Er. I'm so sorry," I said. "I thought this was ice cream. Do you mind if I change my order?"

The cashier girl looked at me, confused, and then at her supervisor who, thankfully, did not.

"Okay," she said, a while later, dizzy from the heat.

So it turns out that "Life on the Beach" was a sorbert drink, and either we were too blind to see the menu or that it was all actually very silly. Obviously, when you go to an ice cream chunk fest everything you see will resemble ice cream, including but are not limited to, things that are not ice cream.

In the end, we ordered Mango Mango and Lemonade. The Mango was nice but tasted horrible with Lemonade. I caught the cashier girl seeping a sorbert drink, probably wishing that customers were a wee bit smarter.

A few hundred metres from us, the emcee was still emcee-ing.

EMCEE: NOW, YOU GUYS. SAY IT WITH ME: PEACE! LOVE! AAAANDDDD--?
RANDOM GIRL ON STAGE: ICE CREAM!
EMCEE: THAT'S RIGHT! PEACE! LOVE! AND ICE CREAM!
ME: ...I think this is the part when people start to clap.

Some photos:

WHOA, ICE CREAM.

WHOA, NOTHING.

Some floaty thingies in the sky: See I like it so much I added a copyright. About the only thing awesome about the 'fest'.

"This has been a long journey," I said afterwards to my friend. "And only 10% of it involves ice cream."

"We are now on the other side," replied she. "Thinking of the people on the other end of the Hill climbing up 50 flights of stairs."

Japan Media Festival

2008-12-04T23:09:00.000-08:00

453fdjfaWER#@$#$34 I wrote this entry two days ago but was too lazy to post it up:

Just a short review of Japan Media Arts Festival and I hope it won't drag out for too long, as I'm really bored with myself right now.

JMAF - We went there and looked at things. But before that, we got lost and incurred about $17 worth of charges, including ERP. The world isn't fair. The museum we were going to is called '8Q' and what it stands for is apparently 8th Queen St. Seriously, please don't tell me that a normal conversation with your friend involves mentioning street names. o_o

ME: Hey, I'm going to NAFA. You know how to get there?
FRIEND: ...189655...
ME: Sorry, what?
FRIEND: 80 Bencoolen Street.
ME: Oh, I see. So what you're saying is that I have to get out of Bugis MRT Station, bypass Bugis Junction, walk along MidLink Plaza, cross 3 traffic lights and pause until I see Sunshine Plaza which is just across the street from Cheers and directly facing the school?
FRIEND: Exactly.

NO YOU DON'T SAY THAT. (Or at least I don't, which suggests that the average Singaporean, who takes for granted that he represents the average Singaporean, don't either.)

Instead, a normal conversation about directions usually goes like this:

ME: Hey, I'm going to NAFA. You know how to get there?
FRIEND: Err, let me think, I think it's near Dhoby Ghaut MRT Station.
ME: You think or are you sure?
FRIEND: You hang on ah. I call my boyfriend.
FRIEND'S BOYFRIEND: You hang on ah. I call my mother.
FRIEND'S BOYFRIEND'S MOTHER: You hang on ah. I call my friend.
FRIEND'S BOYFRIEND'S MOTHER'S FRIEND: You hang on ah. I call my sister.

1 hour later,

ME: Err, so what does your boyfriend's mother's friend's sister say?
FRIEND: She says that it's near MidLink Plaza.
ME: Which is where?
FRIEND: You know Waterloo St?
ME: No, I don't. And I don't know Bencoolen St and I don't know Victoria St and I don't know Queen St and if I do I won't be asking you for directions.
FRIEND: Okay, okay. Sorry. You know Bugis MRT right? You go out, you see Bugis Junction? Then I think you cross the street and go left. Then I think you will see a traffic light and you cross that one also. Then you walk a bit and I think you will see Midlink Plaza, and then I think you will see another traffic light so get over to the other side. I think that's very near Sunshine Plaza which is opposite Cheers. Then I think you walk straight until you see that, and across it I think you will see the school.
ME: Oh I see.
ME: I think you need help.

Exactly my point. Do you honestly think that the name will make sense to first-time visitors? Or that recurring visitors will actually remember its name?

WIFE: Honey, there's an exhibition at 8Q. Let's go.
HUSBAND: 8Q?
WIFE: We've been there before, have you forgotten? 8Q is the product of careful consideration and meticulous calculation of a visitor's convenience representing subtly its strategic geographical location at 8th Queen St.
HUSBAND: ...which is WHERE?

Apart from that, the JMAF was rather interesting. I wouldn't say extremely, but it was just like an other exhibitions that you can go to: displays of things that you've never seen before, in this case, games, animation, toys and some coolio-looking Jap tech stuff. Most of the exhibits there will actually wow you in terms of handiwork (detailed, mind-boggling stuff) or remind you that the Japanese enjoys pushing the boundaries of technology.

I am told, however, that the Singapore JMAF is actually at the tip of an iceberg, the real experience to be found only when you attend the massive one at Japan. A tempting proposal, one that I will attempt after winning the lottery.

I can't show you guys any pictures, because we weren't allowed to take them, but possibly you will find some of the exhibits rather exciting. Like the old manga prints of Hokusai, which is where manga originated from, some beautiful linework dating back to the ages which reminds me very much of Disney, and the 2-metre-long spreads of Nodame Cantabile. :)

The one exhibit that really unsettled me was, however, not found in the JMAF. It's located at level 3, if anyone wants to check it out, and it's part of an exhibition done by a group of Singaporean artists, which includes :phunkstudio.

The exhibit is titled and it's displayed in an entire room by itself.

When I entered the room, the first thing that hit me was the smell. I have gone to a number of exhibitions in the past, but never have I come across one that has a smell, and never one like this. It was a mixture of old wood and decomposing matter, or at least that was the first thing that came to my mind: death and decay.

The room was also very dark and very cold, and I felt at once a wave of nausea and fear.

There was a table in the middle of the room, the only place where light was shining on. I walked up to it, and saw on the table among other things: an old, cracked mirror and a pair of scissors - the kind that I would be tempted to pick up and scare my friends, if not for the fact that I was very freaked out myself. Because next to the scissors were photographs of dolls. Many, many dolls. Dolls with their faces broken, dolls with cracks running across their cheeks, dolls with empty eyes, sneering dolls, grinning dolls, dolls with disfigured faces...

If you still can't picture any of these dolls right now, go to Google and look up 'Chucky'.

When I was a kid, apart from Enid Blyton books, I loved dolls. When I went out with my mother, I begged for a Barbie. When I got A for my Chinese exam, I begged to be bought a doll. I've had dolls that were 1-m tall, and dolls that were 15-centimetre short, dolls that came with a playground, even a doll that my mother won at Las Vegas (ironically, with my birthdate). My favourites, however, were still my two porcelain dolls.

Now, the things is, I'm also an avid listener of ghost stories. Ghost stories, I believe, are the greatest ice breakers ever. You don't have to make room for small talk, don't have to feel awkward that you can't small talk, and when your new friend tells you a ghost story that scares off your pants, then the both of you can be scared off the pants together.

I know that dolls often play huge roles in horror stories. And I probably can guess why. It's because they are flat and lifeless no matter how you access them. It's because they look like humans, and humans are fearful of anything that look like them - especially something as cold and empty as a doll.

Now, I would go on describing to you what else there was in the exhibition (a small wardrobe, coffins and photographs of more dolls) but I think the effective thing would be to visit it yourself. You know what they say about a movie trailer don't you? It tells you the gist, but never the whole story.

So, go there yourself, and pretend that I'm not really too lazy to type anymore.

Birthdays and Flyers

2008-11-30T07:00:00.001-08:00

I hate not updating my blog even for a day. It feels like the world is passing me by without me keeping tabs on it. I need to do records. I need to write things down. Only then will I feel secure, reassured and live life to the fullest.

:)

Which is why it bugs me that I've been lazy. Yesterday, I went out with friends to celebrate V's birthday. Today is the next day, and the day is almost ending, and still I've not yet blogged about it. So here you go.

Unless you want to go into the nitty-gritty details like who said what and who ate what which is really boring and will probably keep you off this blog forever (btw, I ate Tom Yum Kung at Secret Recipe and it was really nice and I had two big prawns which was probably really nice if they weren't two big prawns and I felt really full and then two big prawns became two big THREATENING prawns and S didn't have any prawns which was disappointing and unfair but she had strawberry milkshake which I didn't order and that was disappointing and unfair too! and the others ate lots of food including the beautiful chocolate birthday cake that had Batman icing!! on it of which I couldn't finish though but the others could indicating hence their supreme digesting powers) I will probably not tell you in detail what the rest ate.

The gist was this, though.

We ate and were happy. Sometimes, we were lame, but mostly it was contenting. More importantly, it was V's birthday. And we went up the Singapore Flyer and saw pretty Lego things, which made it an overall awesome day. Yay!

Pictures:

~~My excuse for not editing these photos is that I'm eating an apple right now and have only one available hand and everyone knows you can't edit photos with one available hand.~~ OK sorry, I've edited them a little.

The birthday cake. I know, pretty right? There is a story behind this.

The birthday cake after A's elite cutting skills. A's hands move at a speed virtually undetectable to human eye, hence creating a blurry effect on all cameras and lenses.

One of the things I sometimes regret when I go out with friends is not taking enough pictures. More often than not I am caught up in the actual event of being there, rather than remembering to pause and whip out my camera to capture the moment.

The one aspect of the day that was extremely special was going on top of the Singapore Flyer. Similar to the London Eye, Wikipedia says calls it a 'Giant Observatory Wheel' and Singapore Flyer calls itself 'the world's largest observational wheel' - a surer corporate branding if I've ever seen one.

What I think the Singapore Flyer actually does is to allow you time to cozy up with your partner in a capsule situated about a million feet off the air while people around you are busy snapping photos of the setting sun behind the city centre buildings. A serious answer, I think, would be:

The Singapore Flyer allows you to take a step back to access yourself.

Pictures:

The Flyer at night. No entry is complete without stealing images from Google.

Pictures I took:

This is the capsule we were in, shaped like a... capsule. Takes about 30 minutes to make one rotation.

Our view.

The buildings down below look like Lego, very miniature and unreal. For some reason, they kinda remind me of the time when I accidentally stepped on a couple of Lego bases and my feet hurt like hell afterwards, which made me think: what if I were to step or fall on these buildings? And then I realise:

Entirely suicidal.

Fields and more buildings. Why no cow?

Sunset. The scene is 100x better than the photo.

It is funny how often we see these things everyday - buildings, the sun, silhouettes, roads, rivers and lights, and yet it is only when they are framed in a certain way that we actually stop to consider the effervescence of our surroundings.

I took this shot because of the red buildings, hovering so unassumingly at the edge of the water but commanding more than enough attention. Sneaky. 0:]

"Stop being emo there," S says to me at some point in time, and then I moved over to sit with her. We took some pictures, including a black-of-white one of V's head growing out of my back.

This, I decided, was my next stage of mutation.

Sorry, no photo.

A bad shot, but nevertheless: cars moving past down there gives me an urge to raise my thumb to measure them. Looking at the cars from above makes it surreal that humans could be actually harmed by these objects. Car accidents are tragic and encompassing, but when you're stranded a million feet above ground everything below you appears harmless and small.

And then a truck of workers went by and I realised, oh we are smaller than that.

More rainbows, so pretty... even with the stain. Sorry about that.

Sorry, this entry is a lie. We actually went onto a rollercoaster at the record-breaking height of 420 feet going at a speed of 120mph and I was successful in not screaming or fainting. Also, I fell asleep in my seat. NEXT!

Just kidding. Night lighting makes the Flyer seem like Escape Theme Park, a sure sign of an identity crisis.

Okay, this appears to be quite a long entry but is actually not really. I guess my only gripe at the end is that the ride goes far too slow and takes way too long. Don't get me wrong, it's rather nice: the capsule is big, there are chairs if you're tired, and the view from around is very pretty and blissfully escapist.

However, 30 mins for an unchanging view, however nice it is, just grinds on you after a while.

Hence, I propose a few improvements to the Flyer:

1. A performance. Have everyone in the buildings opposite us dress in red jumpsuits and at selected intervals, will have to pop out of each glass window with arms raised screaming "Yay!"
2. Have helicopters flying past us at scheduled intervals, leaving behind trails of clouds/smoke/stardust that say "WELCOME TO SINGAPORE."
3. Have random people scale up buildings and if made to the top: beat chest and roar like King Kong.
4. Situate cows in the fields below.
5. Situate cows leaping onto one another in the fields below.
6. Spanish bullfight. Just kidding.

Last but definitely not least, it's 1am. Meaning, a new day. Meaning...

HAPPY BIRTHDAY V! I do not know how to add sparkles on happy birthday greetings ever. But please have a very very merry 21st and pretend this message has sparkles even if it doesn't! :D

Also hope that you're reading this, and if you're not, then my SMS when I wake up later on.

LASTLYYY. I am hungry. And sorry that I fail at reading blogs. ;_;

Review: Lay's

2008-11-25T23:37:00.001-08:00

Hello, hello everyone. While I wait for Sims 2 to download (another 3 weeks 2 days to go) and neglect my homework in the process I've decided to write another review, this time for my favourite potato chips - Lay's!

When I was a kid I loved ice cream. I loved ice cream so much that I ate it everyday, got a stomachache, and decided that I didn't love it anymore. Another thing I truly loved was potato chips, or any junk food for that matter, but potato chips speaks to my heart like a true Romeo. Anyhow, to give you an example of how much I loved potato chips:

One day I brought a pack (it was Jack and Jill's) to my French language class, attempted to open it under my desk because I was feelin' the bored, and then I got this look from my teacher that should I ever attempt to riot against French language classes at Bishan in future I will think of that look and shudder, wilt, die. Because it was a scary look. It was a look that said YOU NEED TO STOP DISRUPTING MY CLASS AND GETTING 3.5/15 FOR YOUR FRENCH TESTS.

It was me opening the potato chips under the desk causing a ruckus.

Anyhow, that's not the point. The point is that I loved potato chips so much I risked my life to eat it.

Which is why Lay's potato chips is very special to me:

Hello my middle name is I Steal Images from Google Images!

Although I would prefer the can version:

Raindrops are falling from the sky!

I would feel that the only difference between a pack of Lay's and its can version is the thickness of the chip, ie. how much you get froma bite. Lay's chips in a can is definitely thicker than Lay's chip in a pack, and if I were going to be ever anal with my estimation, let me pick up a ruler and say possibly by a millimetre.

Now, if you are going to ask me, how can you be so anal it's just a millimetre?!

DO YOU THINK THE ARCHITECTS SAID THAT WHEN THEY DESIGNED THE EIFFEL TOWER?

Picture this.

ARCHITECT ONE: Hey Brother, I woke up and had an epiphany.
ARCHITECT ONE: So I was at the Louvre and they were showing this painting of some woman with a forehead and I was like eh, SHE IS TOTALLY CUTE and then I realised all of life's sins stem from temptation, my youth is fleeting and then I decided, I will build a tower to depict this divine revelation right smack in the middle of Paris. WILL BE NAMED AFTER MYSELF. Comprenez-vous?
ARCHITECT TWO: Ce vin est magnifique!
ARCHITECT ONE: So glad you agree. Anyhow, here's the sketch.
ARCHITECT TWO: Eh Monsieur Gustave, but that's a- that's a cat?
ARCHITECT ONE: Awww mannn!! Are Edisons not allowed to doodle anymore? Check out the thing next to it!
ARCHITECT TWO: A building? In the middle of Paris?
ARCHITECT ONE: WOMAN, HAVE YOU NOT BEEN LISTENING TO ME. The tower embodies all of humanity's desires! Its shape is a symbol of the absolute truth! This is my life ambition! The crux of my career! This is what's going to fire your lazy ass if you don't write that proposal right now!
ARCHITECT TWO: No wait Monsieur-- but this is-- don't you realise that the measurements are off by a--
ARCHITECT ONE: Here, have an escargot.

Exactly. A millimetre is paramount to all aspects of life and my tastebuds are testimony of that.

Lay's canned potato chips are thick, delicious and unassuming. You don't have to be a millionaire to eat it. See, I went to NTUC just now and bought a can for $2.35 (Christmas special!) which means that if you have a steady income and a steady boyfriend, YOU CAN EAT IT EVERY HOUR OF YOUR LIFE. (Although I will say a silent prayer for your digestive juices and send you off to that sacred journey.)

Yes, you're right!

The best part is, Lay's is not like any other potato chips.

Let's see the comparisons:

1. Lay's VS Jack 'n Jill:

When I was a little kid, young and innocent and didn't know better, I used to love Jack n Jill's. It was my favourite potato chip; I was immensely addicted. And then a day came when there was a French class and there was a break and there was this friend of mine who saw my potato chips and asked, "Can I have one?" and before I could answer, she PLOWED HER FINGERS INTO MY CHIPS.

Her fingernails were also long and nourished with soft, grey dirt.

From that day onwards, for every Jack 'n Jill potato chips that I buy the image of a girl with long fingernails nourished with soft, grey dirt plowing into my lifeline will forever be embedded in my mind. Nevertheless, I never looked at that brand of potato chips ever again in the same way. It also didn't help that the chips I was eating was garlic flavour, which means that the smell OH THE SMELL provided a scintillating addition to a very inviting image.

(If you'd like to know who that friend was, don't bother. We lost contact right after I quitted French, which was probably all very well because the only thing that I remembered about her was her fingernails. o_O)

Also, if there were a word to describe a packet of Jack 'n Jill potato chips it would be stingy.

If I were a little more vulgar I would say that lying, cheating son of a-- but I'm really not.

A pack if Jack 'n Jill potato chips measures about, let's see, half of your arm. That's a rough estimation from memory, as I don't have the pack with me right now.

Well, then, what about the amount of chips inside the pack?

NOT EVEN A QUARTER OF YOUR LITTLE PINKY.

I swear, for every time I opened up a pack as a kid I felt a burst of childlike, ROARING rage. Hello, if I paid $1.50 for a bag of chips I EXPECT to get $1.50 of a bag of chips!

It would also seem that the number of chips in the packet are seeing a steady decline over the years.

Hence, I can deduce that Jack 'n Jill potato chips operate on a single law of economics:

Market inflation is directly proportionate to product deflation.

1. Lay's VS Pringles

From the amount that NTUC has stocked on its shelves, I can only assume that Lay's is as popular as Pringles. (Ha ha! J'nJ is nowhere in sight!) In fact, Pringles is possibly more popular than Ruffles, the latter of which can be found only outside the doors of NTUC. (Or maybe it's the other way round? Doesn't matter.)

ANYHOW. I do not understand the deal with Pringles. I've tried a couple of flavours: cheese, original (bland!), spicy, barbecue, (hello bland masquerading as barbecue) and probably sour cream if they have the flavour, and I have to admit this:

No Pringles I've eaten so far has spoken to my inner soul. I felt neither a burst of empowerment nor a strong motivation to rob NTUC of its entire shelves of chips. Eating Pringles, in my opinion, is like drinking Coke - boring and bland and should only be attempted if you are desperate for fruit juice. Which is to say, if we went out and ordered drinks I will probably never ask for Coke, unless the waiter tackles me to the ground with a knife to my throat and threatens to cut out my gullet.

Joking.

Seriously speaking, though, I don't like Coke much, and I don't think it's a healthy drink to take at any meals. It's also bland and boring... like Pringles.

Which brings me back to Pringles:

Whoa, baby, have you eaten that thing? (Of course I have, and of course you have.) It's just about the blandest thing I've ever tasted. (Just exaggerating, of course.) That is not to say my scars run so deep that I will scream and die the next time I see one on the shelves, but Pringles is not a brand I will think to crave in the middle of the night, that is, if I have cravings in the middle of the night.

It's something that allows itself to be eaten, and then forgotten about 5 minutes later. Pringles when I am out of chips taste okay. Pringles cans after cans when I am out of chips is not. If there were an excite-o-metre for brands which is judged by how high I leap from the ground, I will say that I will leap only 10 centimetres for Pringles.

Lay's, on the other hand, - I WILL LEAP THROUGH THE CEILING, LEAP THROUGH THE ROOF, LEAP TO THE SKY and pray to God I'll land something soft afterwards.

Here are the top 5 reasons why I love Lay's:

1. Reasonably large packet, can be slightly expensive on average days, but well worth the amount inside.
2. Rich taste and flavour. You can't forget a Lay's after you've tasted it.
3. Strength in its bite. Jack 'n Jill will probably crumble to the ground on one tweak of the pinky.
4. There for you. On the shelves. Anywhere!
5. Its copywriting tells lies and yet it tells them so good.

Example, on the back cover of a Lay's you can find:

Once you experience the big taste of LAY'S STAX© potato crisp, you'll understand why it's the perfect potato crisp for your active lifestyle.

Enjoy LAY'S STAX© potato crisps at the office, around the house, on the go or WHEREVER you are!

GET YOUR SMILE ON!

This paragraph implies that:

1. Eating Lay's is as good as jogging. Now ditch those running shoes and get your ass on the couch.

2. People with active lifestyles eat Lay's. Most of them look like Michael Phelps.

3. You can eat Lay's at the office, contented that your boss won't throw you out for sheer incompetency.

4. You can eat Lay's anywhere and everywhere, including the MRT, where security guards will most likely offer to join in.

5. If however, they become incredibly erratic, you can still eat Lay's in jail, hopefully sharing a bite or two with your cellmates. Both of you will grin happily. Get your smile on!

These points aside, wouldn't you agree that the copywriting does its job brilliantly? It speaks to you as a customer, in a down-to-earth and informal way, at the same time retaining the brand image of Lay's: funky, appealing and likable. It's right next to the nutrition facts too, hence never once emphasising that Lay's have 2.5g of saturated fat, 2.5g of polyunsaturated fat, 5.5g of monounsaturated fat, 15g of carbohydrate and only 1g of protein.

Which is basically saying:

If Lay's is your only diet you will probably die.
However, eat it everywhere if you'd like an active lifestyle!

LIES! I say.

But sneaky, sneaky!

In conclusion, to stop this entry from dragging out more than what it set out to be, I'd like anyone reading this to repeat after me:

1. As a consumer I will be discerning.
2. As a consumer I will eat Lay's.

That is all! And if you're ever so keen to answer, what's your favourite flavour? Mine's barbecue. :)

(Disclaimer: This entry represents entirely my opinion and is hence, judgmental, biased and hyper. It is in no way a representation of yours: go ahead and feel free to disagree.

This entry details what I feel towards certain brands of potato chips. However it may sound like, I hate neither Jack 'n Jill nor Pringles. In fact, I am being a hypocrite and still eating them to this date. I just like Lay's infinitely better. :)

No potato chips was harmed or killed in the making of this entry. A can, however, was devoured.)

Jay Chou

2008-11-25T04:28:00.000-08:00

Okay, I must admit I don't listen to a lot of Jay Chou as his singing style always reminds me of frying beans: the beans jump around the wok without much goal and purpose.

So imagine how surprised I was to tune in to one of his songs today and realise with a start that I could understand what the man was saying.

Perhaps I am too tired and am having one of those moments where my brain decodes anything thrown at it.

Guys, is that an achievement or what? Not saying I hate Jay Chou or anything. I just assumed that the guy had an abstract way of singing that is only comprehensible to me under the influence of alcohol.

Anyhow the song is Dao Xiang.

For a minute there that I listened to it I thought to myself: this is IT. This is the moment where I get my hyperness back. But I guess I be needin' more of those Jay Chou songs, bartender.

Piano

2008-11-23T20:46:00.001-08:00

OKAY. I don't know how people to do it but playing the piano is like controlling a monster. Does this analogy mean that I'm less pro than others and will never be good as the pros on Youtube? I don't know how people do it. They make it seem like they're stroking... water - the notes flow seamlessly one after the next.

IN MY CASE, HOWEVER. Playing the piano is like battling in an arena, with loud dramatic music in the background and sweat rolling down my back. I am huffing and puffing like a three-ton bull, as I charge forward to wring the beast by its neck. Then it mangles me and I die.

I also have a creative block, btw.

How now brown cow?

2008-11-22T17:07:00.001-08:00

I am crazy! Only a day of not updating this blog and I have already begun to miss its presence! It feels like a huge part of my life is missing. Last night I woke up in the middle of sleep to find both hands jutted out in front of me wriggling at the rate of 5km/sec.

Me: W-What are you doing?
Fingers: IS CURRENTLY TYPING A BLOG, DO NOT DISTURB.

That is just a metaphor, do not believe everything I say.

Yesterday I attended a Muslim wedding lunch of my lecturer's, and it was a nice, quiet event with awesome food and lots of pretty decorations. I wish badly to say, "here's the photo!" but I didn't take any (regrets!) and wouldn't like to publicise what's obviously a private affair.

The main gist of it was that I went there, sat down, attempted conversation and ate.

It was a private lunch mainly for people of our course, but I was disappointed that half of my friends didn't go (probably convinced that the other half didn't) meaning that I attempted little conversation and ate more than I bargained for. (Not a lot.)

I also stared at people.

Victims: W-What are you doing?
Me: IS CURRENTLY STARING AT YOU, DO NOT DISTURB.

While at the end of the day I do wish that I could have seen the wedding, it was a good experience to take home with. :) What's fascinating is how even in a city relatively young with little history there are traditions to be kept and customs to be retained. eg. Eggs on plants to symbolise fertility, Malay traditional costumes, etc.

Someday I would like to earn lots of money and travel around the world.

-

I don't like waking up in the mornings.

Don't get me wrong. I love mornings. I love what you get out of them, I love how much you can accomplish, I love the nice, cool breeze and the nice, warm sunlight, I love how energised it makes you feel, I love the little old ladies doing tai-chi downstairs my house... etc. What I'm not fond of, however, is taking part in the affair. Which is to say: bad sinus, bad cold, bad gastric pain, bad coughs and sometimes bad diarrhoea.

Sometimes my mother tries to call me out for breakfast and discovers me missing.

Mother *peers under bed*: COME OUT, COME OUT, WHEREVER YOU ARE!
Me: Is currently in the toilet, do not disturb...!?

So yes, if you ever intend to call/talk to me, please don't ever do so in the morning. o_o

Carl's Jr.

2008-11-20T16:32:00.000-08:00

At 8:30am in the morning I am updating my blog with a SUDDEN CRAVING FOR CARL'S JR. How is it humanly possibly? How is it possibly to think of fast food at 8:30am in the morning when your gastric juices haven't even properly adapted to your waking up?

The answer is this.

Carl's Jr has fat and juicy burgers.

Carl's Jr has fat and juicy fries.

The first and only time I was brought to Carl's Jr I leapt out of my seat screaming, "More burgers! More fries!" It was only my inner mind, but it was SO DELICIOUS. Biting into the food I was reminded of a a movie in which the main character pranced about hilly treetops singing "Sound of the Music". Life was in perfect harmony.

WHY MUST ENTRIES HAVE TITLES

2008-11-19T22:03:00.000-08:00

I have to admit. Getting comments on my blog and journal makes me happy. It gives me the shivers. It drives me into a fit, after which I will proceed to collapse onto the floor and then someone will have to do CPR on me. Hopefully someone that looks like Wentworth Miller.

I REFUSED TO BE REVIVED BY ANYONE OTHER THAN WENTWORTH MILLER!

There. I said it.

I find writing public blogs to be a scary, scary thing. Telling people you know about your blog even more so, but it's, also, at the same time, oddly addicting. You want people to hear your voice, but when they do you start to think all kinds of funny thoughts. Do I sound stupid? Did I make any typos? Is it time for my medicine yet? And most importantly: this. Does my opinion matter?

The answer is yes. It does matter. One thing I find most interesting about reading blogs is the variety of styles and opinions you get out of them. A similar topic approached by different people can take a vastly unpredictable turn.

Take, for example, a cat. Three people walking along Sixth Avenue sees the same cat, but all three will get different messages out of it. All three will, hopefully, have a blog.

Today, Person 1 blogs to his friends, as I was walking past Sixth Avenue I saw a cat. It was black and female and very sweet. Which reminds me, time to give Snowy a bath!!

OMG, you guys! the second person may write, I saw a stray cat along Sixth Avenue today. What's with stray cats along Sixth Avenue!? Do the people not love their pets anymore. Animal rights! Oppression by society! I refuse to be daunted by cruel human behaviour!

Dear Diary, and Person 3 writes finally, TODAY I SAW A TIGER THE SIZE OF AN AFRICAN ZOO.

As you can see, same topic and different approaches, which is what makes blogs so fun to read.

In the past, I've had many, many blogs. On Livejournal, on Blogspot, on Opendiary, on Wordpress - blogs that I created and abandoned, blogs whose usernames I got sick of after about 5 minutes after creation. If each of us only get one award in our lifetime then I should probably get the award for Wasting Most Internet Space. Sometimes, before I go to bed I think of the 50+ blognames that I've abandoned and say a silent prayer. Sometimes they will haunt my dreams and wake me up screaming in the middle of the night.

Nevertheless, no matter how many blogs I have I've never quite had a public blog. I've had private journals in which I write angsty poems, semi-private journals in which I rant about my life and hope secretly that none of my online friends will find me in real life and ask, "Are you sure you slipped on that banana peel?" and some journals exclusively for friends. There is something immensely different about writing for people than writing for yourself. It doesn't matter that only 1 or 2 friends are reading it and you are the only one refreshing the page to increase the counter hits - you have an audience. You have people (hopefully) reading what you write. You have eyes peering into your window. You are broadcasting bits of your life, and suddenly, that becomes a wholly terrifying prospect.

What I believe firmly is this, however. A blog, no matter how public, should first and foremost be for yourself. If I'm not writing the things that I'm interested in, if I'm not writing the things that amuse me, if I no longer get a high from updating my blog, then there is no point to writing it anymore. As a blog reader, I am most interested in reading entries that remain true to the blogger's personality. As a blog updater (calling myself a blogger right now sounds very pretentious) I only hope to remain true to myself.

Last but not least, if you are going to say, "Why the hell are you writing this entry it's not like your blog is read by millions of people all over the world!!" this entry is for myself. To continue writing about things the way they are, no matter how strange.

That is all. Bye-bye!

Review: Milo

2008-11-18T19:00:00.000-08:00

Okay, so this morning we had McDonald's for breakfast and if you were living in Singapore like me you probably wouldn't care that your breakfast was done by a brand with as much health benefits as the fatty side of a chicken wing.

Anyway, so I was eating, and thinking, and eating, and thinking when this thought came to me:

Milo is really popular here.

There are other stuff, definitely, like Ovaltine, cereal and ginger drinks that I occasionally drink, but Milo has an appeal unlike any other brands. That is to say: everyone drinks Milo. Everyone loves Milo. By everyone I mean 'everyone I know and possibly the rest of Singapore' because goodness knows I'd like to meet someone with murderous tendencies towards the brand. o.0

This is what Milo looks like:

Hello, my middle name is I Steal Images from Wikipedia!

If you live in the US (and don't know what Milo is), it's basically the the equivalent of hot chocolate. I presume, as the closest I have to drinking hot chocolate was drinking Milo, and I probably couldn't tell the taste between the two even if I tried. (Hence, revealing my limited life experience and subtle brand loyalty.)

If Milo was a boyfriend he would be the scruffy boy-next-door with thick blame frames, studying economics at NUS while taking you out to Long John Silver's on Fridays, sometimes preoccupied if he'd get an A on that Sociology paper, but most of the time preoccupied with you. You know: safe, practical and cute. :]

Drinking warm Milo when I'm hungry makes me feel like I'm sitting in front of a fireplace on a snowy day. The fire is cackling, the snow is falling, and I'm on the couch with my hands shoved to the fireplace wishing fervently for someone to warm me up, and here comes this guy (who is faceless, but picture him cute, handsome, mysterious and MY BOYFRIEND.) Anyway, he moves up next to me, rubs my shoulders gently and says:

"A Milo for your thoughts?!"

Hahahaha! Okay, you guys, I apologise for destroying any faith you have left of romance. My point is this, however:

Milo is a drink that warms you both on the inside and outside. How? For starters, it's cheap and you can get it at any convenience store near your house. For seconds, it's readily available, and comes in all forms of packaging: cans, bottles, cartons even powder. That's like going to McDonald's when you're insanely thirsty --

Cashier: Small, medium or large?
You: Powder all the way, baby!

Thirdly, you can trust that it won't disappear from the market any time. :) The brand is one of those things (like um, SOAP. and sponge!) that have been so seamlessly integrated into society that you don't realise its existence anymore. I see it on billboards, I see it in someone's glass, and right now I'm seeing 3 packages of it right next to the fridge.

And the most amazing thing to possibly happen is the fact that YOU CAN EVEN BUY MILO WHEN UNDERAGE!

Can you picture what the world would be like if you have to show your IC to buy Milo:

You: Hi, can I have a can of Milo please?
Storeowner: You look young for your age.
You: Um, well you see--
Storeowner: IC please.
You: The thing is--
Storeowner: IC please.
You: I don't--
Storeowner: NO MORE MILO FOR YOU, BOY.

*roars* Blasphemy!!!

Yep.

Right now, I've just turned on this song from Romeo X Juliet the anime (which you should check out if you like awesome art and sappy plot.) and it's making me really emo, hence I will cut this entry short while I retreat into my personal journal for some reflective thinking and personal development.

That is all. And you know I never intended for this to be a review but here's what I got and there you go. Hope you've enjoyed it and remember to caress your Milo next time with utmost delicacy.

Just another public blog.

2008-11-17T23:10:00.000-08:00

Hahaha.

Hahahahaha. Um.

This is my first entry on a public blog, with none of its squealing and CAPs. (!!!)

I like to think of having a public blog as going to the toilet with the door open. You think you are alone doing what you best love, but the truth is? 10,246 people are ambushed outside the door waiting for you. With digital cameras. Or so I'd like to believe. That 10,246 people are reading this.

If you are one of the 10,246 people, please say something.

This is a public blog and it's monumental. It's going down in history as another public blog. That's great. That's terrific.

Dear Google, I hope to God you do not cache this.

Dear Diary, I hope to God that I'll use you more.