In the process of revamping my blog, I have decided to retain some old entries (like, really old) in all their brazen and outspoken glory. This is my way of preserving its original essence, along with it the thoughts and ideas of "me" 4 years ago, who hasn't changed much 4 years later, and have merely grown a little more practical... I think.

This blog will still be used as a commentary on daily life / thoughts, but will also contain book and movie reviews, as well as essays / travels / rants / parodies / drawings / comics... basically anything that should go into a blog and not see the grander light of reality will go into it.

See ya around. :D

Mister Potato Rice Crisps Blogging Contest, by Nuffnang

This is a last-minute entry for the Mister Potato Rice Crisps blogging contest, organised by Nuffnang. I didn't mean to take part in the contest, because according to the rules, it is required that you submit a photo of yourself at the end of the entry, and I'm not one comfortable with things like that.

But... the reward money is to die for, so here I am trying my luck... I know, I'm such a sell-out LOL.

It is a well-known fact that hunger is one of our greatest biological instincts, next to, you know, flight or fight, mating, farting and taking a dump... the latter two of which few people will ever admit to doing, but the truth is, EVERYONE does.

YOU: *farts*

SOMEONE WHO QUESTIONS YOUR DIGNITY: Hey man, did you just fart?

YOU: YOU KNOW WHAT, NEXT TIME YOU WANT TO FART WHY DON'T YOU PUT A PILLOW TO YOUR ASS AND TRY HOLDING IT IN. WE'LL SEE IF YOU CAN FIGHT THAT BASIC SURVIVAL INSTINCT. Idiot.

Has anyone died of not-farting? This is surely one of the greatest mysteries of life. Though you'll know what to say next time you fart and someone questions your dignity.

(I know writing this at the beginning of the entry will totally, like, diminish my chances of winning by 70.5% because one should never write about taking dumps and farting in a... food entry LOL, but, I can't help it.

Isn't it strange that many actions borne of our survival instincts are labelled taboo by society, indicative of a lack of manners, when, in reality, they are necessary for survival? It is almost has if humans have evolved into a civil society of individuals who have risen above the primal means of nature.)



Who can help what we do when we're hungry? Who, even, in periods of intense hunger can claim full credit for their behaviours?

In times of famine it is said that hunger drove people to gnaw at the barks of tree trunks. Stories have been told of groups of people stranded on a deserted island (ala Robinson Crusoe) who ate parts of their bodies to keep alive.


Chances of cannibalism happening in a cosmopolitan city-state like Singapore is nil, unless, you know, you have a fetish. To this I say go ahead, but maybe you should keep it under wraps, don't want to gnaw your toes behind bars, try going for a plate of chicken rice instead, etcetc.

Digressing soo much.

One word to describe a person in a state of hunger is helplessness. Others would be paralysis, hysterical and savage. I know I am savage when I'm hungry. Like I'll open the fridge 30 times only to come upon the same view every single time: nothing.

Then I'll scream and fall to the ground in a moaning heap, clawing at the wooden panels and wondering if this is life for the rest of my existence, and if so, how will I ever cope.

Hysterical, savage and melodramatic.

Speaking of which, you know what is the worst thing your fridge can say to you? Hey man, you know what, today's my off-day. See you on Monday.

YOU, on a warm, humid day when you're so hungry you could die and all you want is a hot bowl of instant noodles, or a nice plate of scrambled egg, or hey, what about a warm glass of milk: *opens the fridge*

FRIDGE: Hey man, you know what, today's my off-day. See you on Monday.



That aside, what are some things I do when I'm hungry? To be honest, to list them down to the very last lurid details is near impossible. Most of these cases involve me doing something quite embarrassing, after which, when I'm confronted about it an hour later (i.e. when I've filled my stomach) would have little to no memory of what has taken place in the past hour.

However, there ARE things that I remember. For the 2000 bucks top prize I'm going to be generous and lay it down for you.


OBLIGATORY DISCLAIMER: Illustrations have been used in lieu of photos because all actions stated here can only be managed under extreme states of starvation, e.g. going without food for three days, an act I refuse to partake, not even for two thousand dollars.

Readers are advised to read entry with discretion, as some scenes might cause viewer discomfort... like that one scene when I was so hungry I leaped onto the window sill and started gnawing at the metal bars. Children under 5 not allowed. You know what I mean. Feed your kids, people.

1. SCREAM INTO A PILLOW



I know the contest totally suggests screaming into a pillow as one of the options. I can imagine that happens to the best of men, for it surely happens to me. What, then, you may ask, is the difference between you and the rest of the human population?

When united by hunger, I say, we are all the same.

Whoever invented the pillow probably never considered the fringe benefits that came with it. Not only does it muffle your screams (because, seriously, no one cares enough for that ruckus) it also releases all that pent-up energy. Better yet, it gives you a reason to be an ass, because if your Mum refuses to cook lunch you can always bring the pillow up next to her, and scream into it.

If she starts yelling at you, tell her you're screaming into a pillow. Nothing personal.

Look, look -- there's even a Facebook entry dedicated to screaming into a pillow. You know you've got it made when you've got Facebook accounts dedicated to you.

2. HIBERNATE

What do animals do when they prepare for long winters? They grow a thick coat of fur, and they hibernate.

Some days of starvation when I feel like I just can't cope with the hunger anymore, I take the lift. I go downstairs. I find a nice grassy patch free of mud and dog poop, and I dig a hole. I make sure that the hole is big and comfortable enough for several years of hiding, and then I climb in and curl into a ball.






... This is not a foetus ...
... This is me curling into a ball ...

On these days I get strange looks from people who don't comprehend the immensity of my task, like that middle-aged auntie who comes up to my hiding place and nudges the edge of it with her flip flops.

OY, she asks. You very bo liao izzit?

AUNTIE, I like to tell her. IF YOU DON'T GET LOST IN FIVE SECONDS I WILL SCREAM INTO MY PILLOW.



Works every time.

What's great about living in a hole is that for the first few days you're more preoccupied with fighting off earthworms and ants than that gnawing in your stomach. Also you can roleplay, and pretend that you're a squirrel, or a bear, or that earthworms are your favourite dish, or that you feed on grass for a living.

If these things don't work, I will sink into a deep sleep.

Am very serious about hibernating, ok.

As to the question of when I'm getting out, you can count on it when lunch is prepared, or the next time they mow the grass.

3. BRUSH MY TEETH

It's my belief that brushing your teeth is the number one method to stave off that hunger. At least for a blissful 30 seconds, the world seems to be at peace. Honestly, can you think about food when you're brushing your teeth? Can you?!

It's like thinking about dinner when you're taking a dump, or thinking about ice kachang when you're having diarrhoea.



What's good about brushing your teeth is that EVERYONE has a toothbrush.

Statistics are, of course, questionable, based on the fact that I haven't exactly done my research, BUT. I'm going to judge you if you don't have a toothbrush. I'm going to judge you badly.

That aside, sometimes brushing my teeth yields the effect of fooling my stomach into thinking that mealtimes are over, and maybe I should go to sleep now. So I will switch off the lights, put on my PJs, and curl into bed.

An hour later... I will wake up with the knowledge that I still have not eaten anything.

Oh well, that's an hour later right?

***

OK so. Just a note. If, up to this point, anyone's read this entry and is thinking of trying the methods for himself/herself: what if brushing your teeth doesn't work? What then?

To this I can only say:

POP OPEN THAT TUBE OF TOOTHPASTE AND DIG IN!!




4. SIT OPPOSITE GUY EATING AT HAWKER CENTRE, AND LOOK AT HIM THROUGH A PAIR OF BINOCULARS

Self-explanatory title. Word of caution though: Before you make your move ensure that guy is not murderous type first. Newspapers have reported numerous cases in which a person was stabbed by cutting knife, or had his fingers chopped off in angry bawl.

Besides that, there is little to no danger of watching someone eat through a pair of binoculars. Except for the fact that you may be considered a public hazard (which is just a relative term).

When the guy throws down his half-eaten dinner plate of chicken rice and leaps for the other direction, it will be entirely worth your wait.

(But but but... you may ask, it's half-eaten food! Can you imagine the germs! What if you contact a disease!

Hello, if I throw you into a forest and starve you for a week... hypothetically, along comes a hippo lookin' good enough to feed a family of ten but looking also like he hasn't bathed for five days, would you curl your little pinky and run in the opposite direction? Hypothetically, you also have a battle axe in your right hand and the strength of a Chinese army... OBVIOUSLY YOU WILL KILL HIM, RIGHT?

I'm sure if then, hypothetically, I had thrown a half-eaten plate of chicken rice under your nose half-devoured by an uncle with questionable hygiene, and given you a choice between eating that or killing the 6000-pound hippo with a battle axe, 99% of the people reading this would choose the former. The other 1% are liars.

Think about it. Perhaps this sounds like it doesn't make any sense, but if you think about it carefully, it actually does.)





Mind Games: Work every time.

5. BLOCK CHICKEN RICE STALL UNCLE BY BUSKING AS LIVING STATUE



What is a "Living Statue"?

It is this:






Marilyn Monroe Living Statue: Permanently Upskirt Since 1955.

What is "Block Chicken Rice Stall Uncle by Busking as Living Statue"?



Yup.

Worst thing to happen is that he will throw knives.

Best thing is that he will throw his entire stall of chicken rice. Hopefully for breakfast, lunch and dinner. :D

***

Now, I've come to the last part of this entry. If I'm going to approach this subject seriously, I have to say that being hungry is one of the worst feelings in the world. I think, perhaps, it is due to this very reason why quick snacks exist, why vending machines are invented, why fast food has become so popular, especially in this grab-and-go era, where almost everything you do is only as good as your last.

And I think too, that having something you can eat while you wait for your noodles to boil or your rice to cook... that's actually a decent proposal. :)

So here Imma pimp Mister Potato Rice Crisps, NOT because I'm blogging for its contest... k fine, that's part of the reason.

THOUGH NOT WHOLLY.

Lord knows that I'm a fan of potato chips. If you looked through my blog entries dated back to 2008 you'll see that roots grow deep, and that I've loved them since I was a little girl. *coughsometimesdramahelpstellyourstory*

Out of all the potato chips eaten so far, what differentiates Mister Potato Rice Crisps is that they taste like both rice and potato, and do not carry the strong flavour of your regular potato chips.

However, this entry is totally not about me being a chips connoisseur, so I'll save this snippet for the next time.

My point is:

YOUR FATE IS NOT DECIDED BY YOUR FRIDGE.

YOU DON'T HAVE TO DIE OF HUNGER.

THERE IS A SOLUTION TO EVERY PROBLEM.



And if I could tell all the past me what I know now

-- the me that screamed into a pillow, the me that hibernated underneath my HDB flat, the me that brushed my teeth and then went to sleep, the me that sat opposite the guy eating at the hawker centre and looked at him through a pair of binoculars, the me that blocked the chicken rice uncle stall by busking as a living statue,

-- I would say this:

There's no need to act like a madman because there is Mister Potato Rice Crisps for you to munch on, anytime, anywhere.



OBLIGATORY DISCLAIMER: All illustrations and images posted here are either drawn or photoshopped by me. Unless they look like they, you know, aren't.

Ben & Jerry's "chunkfest"

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

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

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

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

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

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.