Pole dancing yummy men

Being somewhat a goggle box of the late, I happened to watch this show on Channel 8/U called Crossfire, and they were discussing whether Singapore should allow companies to use such marketing gimmicks. In their example, the company in doubt called it "Ladies' Night" or "shu nu zhi ye" and at the Heartland of Tampines at C Square, engaged some hot sweaty MALE bods shaking their bon bons really really hard wearing skimpy shorts or tight leather pants with their G strings showing a bit, just the way we girls fear when wearing our ultra low waist jeans. All as part of their marketing gimmick, which is of no relevance to the product itself. So is it right to do it or not?

To me? What's the big deal. The only qualms I really had was that why of all places in such a public place like Century Square. That's all. I mean, I really suppose they just want crowds, and the way to get crowds is to have something new, something different, from the rest. Like there was a time where companies made girls sell bubble tea in bikinis. And it created the hoo-ha they wanted and people went there to look at the babes and well, bought their bubble tea. Objective met.

There will always be an association of skimpy women with beers and cars. What relevance were there? There never were. It's just to boost sales. And it's not illegal, or too controvesial. Paris Hilton was engaged by Carl's Jr too. For Burger! Or Tiger's latest ad?

Is it then, because of the fact that it is now male bods we are talking about, making men the object of desire?

There was this professor from China who said things like the only reason why we are different from animals is that we know how to control our emotions and desires and we have managed to supress this for thousands of years. Why now let it all come to a waste.

And I was really like ????????
So a night of watching some bon bons will unleash the animal in you and you will just lay every guy you lay your hands on? And it will really waste away the thousands of years of surpression? WOW.

And then she said why must we follow the Western society all the time, just because they do it we must do it meh?

You know, I really really hate it when people always always blame the Far West for everything. For the openess about sex lah, for the bad influence lah, for the increase in crime rates lah, increase in rapes lah, whatever. Not like I am a firm supporter of the Ang Mohs or anything, but please be reasonable, it's not all their fault.

I really believe it is a result of globalisation AND urbanisation. Cramping thousands and thousands of people in the city with nothing better to do, it is inevitable shit happens. And the refusal to believe that times have changed (since long ago but people just didn't want to say it out openly)

I digress. Conclusion? Do it man, whatever you like, just not at such a public place next time please, where kids are around.

My blog is worth $8,468.10.
How much is your blog worth?

Astonishing groundbreaking news that i should be (an am very) ashamed of

I have missed the birthday parties of 2 very important people in my life this year, both Leo.

I have missed dates with my jammy james more than one this year. And pissed james off bad bad bad.

Oh james, i promised and i always break my promise.

Leo and Scorpio must be cursed. This forever intertwined relationship.

*dramatically burst into fits of tears*

Happy Halloween

Sian man, holiday on alternate days. This is so shitty.

I'm so bored I'm growing spiders on my shoulders. I'm serious.

Skiving off soon 'nuff.

Vincent (Starry, Starry Night)

Starry, starry night
Paint your palette blue and grey
Look out on a summer's day
With eyes that know the darkness in my soul
Shadows on the hills
Sketch the trees and daffodils
Catch the breeze and the winter chills
In colours on the snowy linen land

Now I understand
What you tried to say to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free
They would not listen
They did not know how
Perhaps they'll listen now

Starry, starry night
Flaming flowers that brightly blaze
Swirling clouds and violet haze
Reflect in Vincent's eyes of china blue
Colours changing hue
Morning fields of amber grain
Weathered faces lined in pain
Are soothed beneath the artists' loving hand

Now I understand
What you tried to say to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free
They would not listen
They did not know how
Perhaps they'll listen now

For they could not love you
But still your love was true
And when no hope was left inside
On that starry, starry night
You took your life as lovers often do
But I could have told you Vincent
This world was never meant for one as beautiful as you

Like the strangers that you've met
The ragged men in ragged clothes
The silver thorn of bloody rose
Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow

Now I think I know
What you tried to say to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free
They would not listen
They're not listening still
Perhaps they never will...

Picture perfect

Is it just me? That I feel this pang of awkwardness when I look at pictures of people whom I've known when they are together with somebody else, and now they are looking happy with another guy/girl in their arms?

And I'm not even talking about my own past. Just some people that you know, that you have not met in a while. Then you see their Friendster (annoymously of course!). That kinda thing.

With all the time I have to kill online, and the lack of motivation to read anything that is actually useful, I have been quite a blogder.

I read XX's blog so often that I'm tempted to add her in my link.

But anyways

I really do wonder why some people like to spill their lives out in the cyberspace. Spilling your thoughts is okay, but detailing down to where you have been today, who you go with, followed by about twenty pictures of yourself and your unwilling friends is a little overbearing.

Like I would like to know you better, but if your ABOUT ME is like 4,000 word long, I don't need to try to know you anymore. Because I think I already do. And maybe I don't wanna know too much, like how upset you were when your pet dog died (when you were 5 years old), or the name of that dog.

Such information should be saved only for the super stars you worship but will never get to meet. And superstars will pay for such info to NOT be published.

I will feel so weird when we meet up because I wouldn't ask you how was your weekend because I will totally know that you went to Zouk with Tom and Harry and you wore your pink tube you bought from Topshop at the recent sale at a bargain of 40%. But I still have to because that's how it normally goes. Or should I act like I don't know? Or say, oh I read from your blog that you went to Zouk. And I wouldn't ask how was it because the full coverage from 11pm to 4am will also be stated, how you fell off the stairs at the Phuture toilet blah blah. And the very next day when I click on your blog again, find out how our little meetup is no longer private and everyone will know that we went to Starbucks at Liat and we talked about the moon. And of course, much to my disgust but in full anticipation, the picture that shows my doublechin will be posted up because your hair looked so good.

Of course, I should not condemn these people. I don't, and they really provide such great entertainment for me when time crawls. But if I ever start to show such traits, please slap me awake.

Though I'm sure you won't. Because I will provide such great entertainment to you.

Maybe its the aircon, or the feng shui, or the fringe, or the make up, or the improper make up remover, or the facial wash, or the moisturizer, or the facials. Whatever it is, my skin is apparently getting from bad to worse. The beautician warn that it will turn into first degree acne (ACNE! How awfully awful!) if I don't take care of it.

!!!!!!!!!

Maybe it just comes with age. And I no longer can use off the shelf stuff anymore. Maybe I shall upgrade myself to Clinique soon enough. Or maybe I need to go organics and use Origins. I don't know!

And the job. Shiok as it is with all the f-r-e-e-d-o-m, but the money will not be able to sustain my already not very extravagent lifestyle. Should I say, not even near extravagent? I don't really club. I don't pay for drinks. I never sign facial packages. I don't even have a gym membership. I don't have branded bags (per se) and I don't have four wheels. I don't even own a Tiffany or a liquid paper pen. Even if I save $500 a month, it will only work out to be $6,000. So how many freaking years must it take for me save enough to study?

And there isn't even job satisfaction.

Maybe I should try to write like Xiaxue and pray that one day my blog will be just as famous so long I post photoshopped pictures of myself, perm my hair and put 3mm thick makeup.

Ahhh..

According to FEMALE, women who are sex starved tend to splurge on shoes.

I have 27 pairs.

So I was making myself a cup of teh C. Perfecting my cup of teh C (or rather, making it taste remotely like any coffee shop's) has been one of my greatest aim ever. So I decided on D*lmah's superior Ceylon tea bag and left it there in my cute little cup. Then I forget all about it and it went cold. I tasted it sans sugar and it seemed okay. Not too bitter like the way Un*lever auntie told me it will be when you leave your tea bag too long in the cup.

But how the hell am I going to add in the sugar?

So I added a bit of hot water and stirred the sugar in another cup, then pour the syrup into the tea.

But it still doesn't taste like the kopitam one leh.

End of story.