hongxiang's really awesome blog

The global unemployment rate has dropped by two.

2008-11-06T16:53:00.008+08:00

Now I'm not too sure about this, but I think there could be a new president for the United States.

People who know me well would know that I am not interested in politics. Afterall, it is a pretty well-known fact that my interests lie primarily in the trajectory-prediction for rubber-band propelled ping pong balls.

However, this time around, I must admit that I am quite interested in the American election. This is because for the first time ever, a non-human is running for the second most important office in the whole world (the first being the presidency of Jamaica, naturally).

Allow me to introduce the latest innovation of Oprah Inc. - Barack Obama v1.0

According to the press release from Oprah Inc., Barack Obama v1.0, or BOVIO for short, is the 'child' of a Kenyan robot. BOVIO, in my opinion, is a huge upgrade because while the previous Kenyan version ran for food, the American BOVIO ran for presidency.

The media has been hailing this year's election as a historic one, and I'm afraid I'll have to agree. For one, this will be the only 2008 presidential election ever.

It is also the first ever election in the world that pits a robot against The Oldest Man Alive (TOMA) John McCain.

Now that the polls have ended, it is apparent that people generally prefer robots over old people. The main reason for this, in my opinion, is because robots are generally more productive. Furthermore, robots usually last longer than old people.

Honestly, I couldn't see another outcome in this race.

Speaking about myself, I am now a part of the Singaporean workforce. After my experimentation with my resume, I managed to snag a job after about four interviews.

I now spend my days in a modern and edgy office adorned with vintage movie posters. The walls are painted black and you can't really get edgier than that. I mean, seriously, black walls is the new black.

I also have the priviledge of sitting under the skirt of Audrey Hepburn. I was told that this is part of my employee benefits package and I am now enjoying it to the fullest.

People who know me would also know my contempt for 8-to-5 or 9-6 jobs. This job is therefore officially perfect for me because it is a 10-7 job. I really can't find a reason to not like it.

Oh, and did I mention that the wall behind the cistern is decorated with this poster?

Just look at the apprehension on Clive Owen's face. There really isn't a bigger boost to a male ego than a Hollywood action star looking at your package in fear.

Every. Single. Time.

Nostradamus 2.0

2008-10-09T20:34:00.003+08:00

It is neither my position nor my desire to share this grave news with you, but please bear with me - the world is ending in four years.

Now in case you start thinking that I am bucking the trend and talking senseless on this blog, please read this link.

For all you amateurs out there, the link explains that many years ago, a bunch of science nerds got together and invented a programme that could predict the future.

The programme does this by sending spiders out onto the Interweb while we're all asleep. These spiders then read the things that we say on the Interweb (!) and use the readings to predict the future.

It does this by searching for certain keywords and checking the text before and after the keyword. That is, apparently, our unconscious mind typing. For example, if a spider was to chance upon the previous paragraph looking for the keyword 'future', it would see that the text before and after 'future' was 'the' and '.' This means that there is only one future and that it's ending.

Wow, is that spooky or what?

It also means that the poor people who can't afford the Interweb is not involved in predicting the future at all. Which is fair, really, because hungry people usually are depressed and would think that the world is ending faster than it really is.

So where did these spiders come from? Nobody really knows. What I can tell you for sure is this - the spiders think that we only got four years left.

Now before you get all gloomy, let me tell you this - four years is a pretty long time to be prepared. Also, it is nice to know the year you'll die in. Treasure that, because it is a luxury most of our great-grandparents did not have. Well, except for those whose ancestors were sentenced to die.

Finally, before you leave this blog and inform the masses of the impending doom, do remember to eat blueberry pies. You've only got four years left, and you wouldn't wanna die without ever eating one. Cause that, my dear readers, would really suck.

Silence is not boring

2008-04-14T11:12:00.002+08:00

Most of you folks probably don't understand this - and there's no need for you to worry about it - that there's a lot of drama and tension in writing a blog entry.

For example, I had to struggle on what to actually write about in this current entry.

Should I bore you about my daily mundane life and include things like what I ate, where I ate and describe every single conversation I had with everyone?

Should I write about John McCain's recent visit to Iraq, which is known as Mesopotamia to the ancient himself?

Should I talk about my futile wait for Momma Jolie's adoption attempt?

Or should I join the masses and write something about the rising food prices, crashing world economy and the overall devastation brought upon Mother Earth by a race of vermin otherwise known as mankind?

After much deliberation, I have decided to write a piece about something so gut-wrenching and plaintive that it could bring tears to every single eye on a potato.

I broke my earphones two weeks back.

It was a terrible (or as Charles Barkley say it, TRBL) tragedy, because of my general hatred for other sentient beings.

You see, the reason why I loved my earphones so much wasn't because of its snazzy color combination, cheap build or cheaper price. I loved it because it blocked out sounds from external sources, i.e. other humans and whatever they happen to be travelling on.

And so for two weeks, I had to go through the ordeal of listening to other humans' futile attempts at communication.

It was TRBL.

However, like I always like to say, as long as I am still on this side of the cold meat counter of a cannibal market, I will try to solve every single tragedy that befalls upon me. And so, I applied the HongXiang Method.

The first step did not work, however, so I had to throw money into a new pair of earphones.

So I did.

I got myself a pair of kooky-looking earphones known as the Westone UM1. Nobody I've talked to actually knows anything about this brand or model, but I was still prepared to shell out big bucks for it because it is one of the few items on the rack that managed to insert both alphabetical and numerical forms of the same digit into a product name.

You can't beat that for value, really.

Anyway, I've had the Westone UM1 for about five days now. It has been awesome. (How would Charles pronounce this? AWSM?)

For one, and I think I've mentioned this before, the Westone UM1 looks kooky.

People used to walk up and start talking to me when I had one of those normal-looking earphones. They actually expected me to take out my earphones, listen to their problems and give them advice.

Not anymore.

The beauty of the Westone UM1 is that it looks like a pair of hearing aids. It's amazing. (AMZN?)

Having a pair of hearing-aid-lookalikes in my ears naturally lead people to assume that I am deaf. And people generally do not talk to deaf people. It is some kind of prejudice, I believe, but I like it because I no longer have to solve any problems of other people.

In fact, I fully expect people to make attempts at talking to me and apologise in an extremely guilty manner after I gesticulate wildly in mock sign language.

What a beautiful scene.

Another advantage of the Westone UM1 is that it filters out external sound. I no longer have to listen to the polite conversations between doctors and accountants and lawyers and women with severe haircuts and halitosis.

Some may argue that wearing such earphones may be dangerous because I will not be able hear any oncoming dangers. However, I want to assure you that it is not true. (I really appreciate your concern, though.)

The reason lies in a very simple Science law - light is faster than sound.

And by extension, I will be able to see any oncoming dangers before being able to hear them.

With this law of Science in mind, I believe it is safe to state that one is perfectly fine even if one cannot hear the rush of traffic, the whine of a crashing plane or the war cry of a Samurai running at one's throat with a sword.

(I do not know where I got the last comment from, but I swear it sounded like a good line to end this entry with when it was in my head.)

An inconvenient truth.

2008-03-31T22:11:00.004+08:00

Ladies and gentlemen, hold on to your hats and sphincters for this - the blog has achieved an incredible milestone with a total of fifty posts!

Some people may claim that taking almost a year and a half to reach fifty posts is actually a failure, but I beg to differ.

I do not know why I am begging to differ, but I'll do it anyway.

Unfortunately though, I'm afraid I have to pen this entry with a heavy heart.

Last Thursday, according to my source s, it was raining hailstones in Central Singapore. Hailstones! In March! In sunny Singapore!

And hence, I decided to write this entry with great haste.

(A journalism lecturer once taught me the importance of timely articles. I'm afraid I've never really grasped that concept.)

Now I don't really like to toot my own horn, but I am writing this with the aim of serving the greater good. In fact, if serving the greater good was a crime, you can arrest me right now.

I am not an alarmist by nature but let me tell you this -

WE ARE SCREWED.

(It is capitalised, so it is very important.)

You see, sunny Singapore never had hailstones. In fact, the only times we had rain were December and days when I decide to leave the house. And out of the blue, hailstones just fall from the sky.

And I know what is going to happen next.

Crop circles.

Now it is a well-known fact to those who know it well that crop circles are the sign that the world is ending. They are the messages from the Maize God; a visual expression of the agonies of the landscape; a last-ditch cry of pain. But is anyone paying any attention?

So before the crop circles strike the last bastion of democracy (otherwise known as Singapore), we must rise and defend our soil from further defilement.

And in the spirit of serving the greater good, let me present to you the HongXiang Method.

In a nutshell, the HongXiang Method is the only one that has managed to solve all the problems in life.

There are actually two parts to this Method, and they are -

(Put on your coffee, grannies. You won't want to miss this!)

1) Stare at the problem until it gives up and walks away.

2) Throw money at it.

Cherish this entry, my friends, for you have learnt an important lesson of Life.

Change is in the air, my friends.

2008-03-18T22:38:00.003+08:00

Due to a sorry lack of creativity, this entry will begin in the same manner as most others on this blog - with an excuse designed to hide my laziness and blame the lack of updates on an entirely unrelated matter.

As I've mentioned many times before, I was forcefully conscripted into the Singaporean Army (I really am a pacifist, despite my daily actions) in 2006 and since then, life has been quite a bore.

In fact, if people were to take a picture of my current state, I will probably look something like this:

And this boredom is exactly the reason why there were no updates until now.

(Of course, I could always write about how the Blob is able to make people seasick even though they are on solid ground; or how the Singaporean government, the Shining Beacon of Democracy and Freedom, decided that terrorists are really no harm to the public at all, but that would be too boring.)

You see, I have been so bored that I actually started thinking about my future. In fact, I even considered the possibility of starting a career after my conscription ends. That's how bored I was.

Now many of you may say that taking a job should be the last thing a young man of resourcefulness and talent should ever have to do. A young man of resourcefulness and talent should live off his wits, play the field, wheel and deal and do things of that nature.

However, we all know that I am not that aforementioned young man.

And so, I pondered about possible career choices.

Unfortunately, I do not have a passion for anything in this world. Unlike necrophiliacs, I do not have a career in the undertaking industry to look forward to.

(I apologise for the appalling and unsavoury reference to necrophilia. I assure you that my original intention was to say that 'unlike people with a penchant for spanking people with truncheons while wearing a uniform, I do not have a career in the police force to look forward to.' However, legal concerns prevented me from doing that. And hence, I did not.)

I set about surfing around websites which claim to have the comprehensive list of careers that yield the most with the less effort because, after all, what can be more reliable than a website set up by an anonymous stranger?

(This spate of surfing did bring a question to my mind though - why do companies like Golden Boronia start a website? Would anyone ever go, 'Gee, I wish I knew more about nougats. I know! I'll check it out on the Golden Boronia website!' Hm, more things to ponder about in office.)

To say that I decided to become an investment banker, draw an attractive salary, marry a fine woman, have two kids, retire in the countryside of Canada, start a pumpkin patch and look forward to living off returns from lucrative investments would be to state the obvious.

And none of us want that.

So, perhaps in a move motivated by public-spiritedness, I decided to start a website. The next thing to decide on was what the website will be about.

That, my friends, is the easy part.

You know that I hate to toot my own horn, but despite not knowing any foreign languages and struggling with English and Mandarin (the two languages that I know) on a word-by-word basis, I consider myself to be quite the linguist.

And isn't it always better to stick to what one does best?

Hence, in light of my remarkable language skills and public-spiritedness, I will run a website where the writer (I) makes remarks on everything that does not relate to him.

The golden god has met his nemesis.

2008-02-23T00:38:00.002+08:00

I have not been updating for a couple of reasons:

1) I have been sick from all the happiness surrounding the recent festivities. Now that the Season of Gambling is over, I am once again in the pink of health. My lymph nodes feel kinda swollen though, so I'm gonna have them checked...

2) I have met my nemesis.

I believe I have talked about my general distaste for happy festivals once or twice here, but I don't think I've ever mentioned my innate hatred for stupid people.

To be honest, I only discovered this passionate hatred recently, when a new colleague joined my department. For confidentiality reasons, I shall name her Blob (in view of her size and general flaccidness).

You see, the thing about Blob is that she thinks she's in her own wonderful world, where she's curvaceous, smart and doing great in her new job. Heck, she probably invented sunlight in Blob Kingdom!

Unfortunately for her (and many of us within the same office), everything is totally different in this real world (which incidentally is all about me).

For example, she is not curvaceous. Unless, of course, you believe that the circle is actually one big curve.

I shall not dwell on her size though, because that would be really personal and unfeeling (not to mention nauseating).

Blob is also dumb. She is so dumb that if she lost all her cognitive prowess one day, nobody would actually notice. You see, there are three kinds of people in the office; good workers, good-for-nothing workers, and then there's Blob.

As a matter of fact, just today, I had to explain a three-worded phrase to her four times. And these three words had an average of two syllables each.

Oh, and words. Don't even get me started.

Part of her job requires her to deal with people. Converse in English, write in English, the whole she-bang. Perhaps, in a Shakespearian twist of fate, Blob does not really know any English.

Well, okay, she does know a few words like food, spoon, Marks & Spencer's, and maybe even table, but she spells 'writing' with double ts!

But that's not all!

Like I mentioned earlier, Blob has to converse in English. However, it seems that she has this little speech impediment where she swallows up a few letters here and there.

For example, and this is my favourite by the way, nothing is ever pronounced 'never' in Blob Kingdom. No way.

In that wonderful place, the word 'never' is read as 'lehhhhhhh'. So everytime I say something contradictory to her simplistic notions, Blob looks deep into my eyes and go 'LEHHHHHHH MIND!'

Most of the time, I have to give in.

I mean, honestly, how can you argue with 'LEHHHHHHH MIND'?! She says the words with such heartfelt emotion and conviction!

I kinda worry for her though. Just imagine if she went to Cambodia for a holiday or something.

Fifteen days, or what makes me ill.

2008-02-11T09:36:00.000+08:00

Due to the recent festivities, I am obligated and expected to make the following statement:

Happy Chinese New Year! (And a brilliant day to all other races of Singapore!)

Talking about obligations, being Chinese also means that I am not exonerated from the dubious task of visiting long-lost relatives and eating their food.

Unfortunately, despite what my parents may tell you, I am personally against house-visiting. In fact, when my parents brought up the issue of visiting my relatives, I replied that I would rather die.

Don't misunderstand me, because I really have nothing against these relatives. It's just a religion thing, and my religion just so happens to be against the pointless visitations of people who seem to have more children every year.

(Other things my religion frowns upon are the stairs, crusts on bread, working on Mondays, James Blunt and algebra.)

However, this religion is rather frowned upon in this secular society (along with other fun things like chewing gum, courtesy and opposition parties). Thus, I have to go through the motions and pretend to be amused when the kids of my cousins dip their hands into my food.

(Also, some of my younger cousins believe that blasting repetitive songs from their handphone gets people in the festive mood. Sometimes, this is true. However, this rule does not apply when the song, or duet, in this case, features a group of ladies going 'Don't cha wish your girlfriend was a freak like me' and the guy keeping mum in silent contemplation.)

Thanks to all this time spent in awkward silence in a related stranger's home, however, I have made an interesting, maybe even groundbreaking, observation.

You see, it was once thought that the Chinese were trying to take over the world, and that by increasing our ranks to 1/6th of the world population, we would soon be able to achieve our goal.

However, after musing for the past few days, I have noted that the previous notion was not true. In fact, it is well off the mark, like how people used to think that the world was flat and Vanilla Ice was cool.

In addition, I am also pleased to announce that the Chinese do not intend to take over the world. (We leave that to the Catholics, especially those of the Roman persuasion.)

The uncomfortable truth is, the Chinese go wherever the money is. That is why you see us in every single part of the world. Well, except for Africa perhaps.

Anyway, I believe many keen observers would also have noticed that we Chinese have a racial commitment to fleecing. Just think about it.

We have a festival called the Chinese New Year (intelligently abbreviated as 'CNY' by the masses), where married couples are obligated to give money to anyone who is not married.

In this same festival that lasts for 15 days, the Chinese are also expected to visit the homes of people whom they won't approach with a five-foot stick during the rest of the year. These said people will then have to meet the expectation of feeding their reluctant guests.

And that is not all.

The reluctant guests and their unfortunate hosts will then have to gather around a table and indulge in an ancient form of pagan worship known as gambling.

(Gambling is also known in certain circles as 'I-I-I-just-sat-there-for-a-couple-of-hours-and-then-poof-all-my-money-was-gone', 'today-is-my-lucky-day' or 'honey-I'll-be-working-late-tonight'.)

Some of you may brush it off as a government-sanctioned pastime, but let me assure you that it is not (those being stamp-collecting and train-spotting, as mentioned many times on this sorry excuse of a blog).

The truth is, the desire to gamble is written into our genes. I personally believe that it is right up there with 'breathe' and 'eat'. In fact, I think that the exact message may have been 'WIN HIS MONEY', or something to that effect.

And thus, due to this inherited genetic disorder, the ancient Chinese set aside 15 days in the lunar calender where every man shall gamble away their fortunes and blame everything on Lady Luck, or her absence, on the 16th day.

One might say that I am just a miserable person devoid of all respect for Chinese customs. Well, I beg to differ. For one, one says a lot of things. In fact, one just cannot shut up.

If you insist that I am miserable, rude and obnoxious, then I shall sit on my bed and think of groundless accusations against you. And I will do it.

That aside, I hope you have a merry festive season!

And then, pieces from all over

2008-01-24T20:54:00.000+08:00

Voila!

Just when you thought that I forgot about this blog, and that there's a remote chance that this unholy creation may dwindle and die off, I'm back!

To be honest though, I did forget about this blog until a few friends of mine brought it up. So thanks to them, I shall plant my ass on my smelly cheap chair and make unfounded sarcastic remarks at everything!

Before that, however, I think it is only right that I explain my absence on the World Wide Web (or as some call it, 'Wow wow wow!') .

You see, blogging is a tiresome affair.

Well, probably not an affair, but tiresome nonetheless.

Anyway, it is extremely taxing for me because being Singaporean, I struggle at English. And like many comrades, I start every sentence with the same words. Thus, every blog entry of mine must be vetted by a team of grammar experts to prevent repetition.

Don't get it? Well, let me give you an example. Read this before you continue.

Done?

Now read my original draft:

I was going home today. And then, suddenly, I think of something. And then I change the 'r' in 'road' to 't'. And then I change the 'n' in 'naming' to 't'. And then I get 'toad taming'.

Get my point? Now I hope you understand that blogging is a serious and tiring business.

(Well, actually everything is tiring. With the exception of resting, I think.)

Anyway, to the serious stuff.

The tool I use to type rubbish, Blogger, has nicely updated themselves to include three new languages: Arabic, Hebrew and Persian.

They couldn't release one before the other, because that might cause a nuclear holocaust in the Middle East. Those people fight over everything. It's just their regional hobby I guess, like how South East Asians like to burn trees.

Great piece of news though, because now we can say something poignant and make people read it from right to left.

On a brighter note, I went to a wedding dinner the other day, and it was fantastic.

I wasn't really sure as to who the couple really was, but boy, the food was delicious. Every single dish was, in UtarEmpire's words, sex in the mouth.

I have to highlight the roasted suckling pig though. It's not too oily, and every bite brings forth a fresh tingle. I flipped the pig around and found that there was a light coat of chilli under the thin flesh. Amazing stuff.

I don't really have a picture of the roasted pig, but here's something that should give you a rough idea of what it looks like:

Anyhow, this is the website of the restaurant: www.gimtim.com.sg

Finally, to end this entry on a high, I have an announcement to make: I lost my phone!

And like most people, losing my phone also means losing my entire phonebook. It is a bitch, I know, but that's what life is all about.

So, to make things easier for me (because THAT'S what it's all about, not the Hokey-freaking-Pokey), please read the following descriptions of your relationship with me and perform the appropriate action:

1) You see me in real life all the time but you do not know my name. Everytime you look at me I hide behind something. I'm always loitering at your door.

If you fit this description, PLEASE GIVE ME YOUR NUMBER.

2) You see me in real life almost every week and I'm on your MSN list.

Don't bother doing anything, I probably have your number memorised. If not, you probably belong to group 3.

3) You see me in real life frequently and I'm on your MSN list. Sometimes, however, you see me offline for long periods and you have a sneaky feeling that I'm blocking you.

I'll ask for your number. If I need it.

4) I'm on your MSN list but we stopped meeting three years ago. Everytime either one of us starts talking to another, we go 'Sorry, but you are?'

Sorry, but you are?

5) You have never met me and you do not have my MSN. All you ever did was to read this blog.

I don't know who you are or what you do, but damn, you are one unlucky soul. Oh, and thank you for contributing to the numbers on the left. It means a lot to my ego.

Oh, and before I forget, UtarEmpire showed me this Youtube video the other day.

We decided over breakfast today that music has gone downhill ever since that fateful day when this song was released. No one ever came closer to musical nirvana than that. Not Michael Jackson, not Guns 'n' Roses, not Britney Spears. Hell, even Robert Plant pales in comparison.

So read my lips, my friends, for Rick is the new black.

Se7en

2008-01-02T22:34:00.000+08:00

Once again, a year has gone by without me noticing it.

And like many New Years before this, I spent the first few minutes of 2008 alone at home, whimpering the final lines of Auld Lang Syne to myself.

Ah, gotta love these festivities.

Anyhow, it is also a time for us to look back on our previous resolutions, and see how far we have fallen from the bullseye and how much of a loser we have been. So to speak.

My previous resolutions for 2007 was to gain 15kg, save $500, learn how to cook 25 dishes and tidy up my room.

And I am extremely proud of myself, for I have surpassed the HongXiang of previous years.

I am one-third to completing the first resolution.

Therefore, I can safely say that I am 5kg heavier than the HongXiang from about 365 days before, although I still do not have much savings, still only know the ways about scrambled eggs, carbonara and albondigas, and I still can't differentiate between my bed and the desk in my room.

Hm, maybe looking back wasn't such a great idea. Well, I guess I'll have to look forward then.

Since another new year has begun, again, I shall list my resolutions for the year 2008. Again.

(Ed's Note: It's like a tradition, an old charter or something.)

Unlike previous years, however, I shall list things that I will not do, instead of things I will do. Simply because I personally prefer not doing anything over doing something.

Also, please note that this entry, in it's entirety, is sponsored by the Cheap Commercial Chocolate Coalition (CCCC)

(Ed's Note: If you are someone who detests the commercial taint on everything and denounces the material things in life, then kindly bugger off. I mean, you must be really busy making your own clothes by hand.)

(Ed's Note: I really like these ed's notes in brackets. They're like a running gag of this blog. Sometimes they're around, sometimes not. Then sometimes they just appear out of nowhere and make no sense.)

I have also been very inspired by this movie called Se7en (not featuring Count von Count), which basically shows the murder of seven people.

So without further ado, I present to you the 2008 resolutions of HongXiang. (Inspired by the Bible and sponsored by CCCC)

1) Lust

Ah, adultery and bestiality. I promise that I will stay away from these three ungodly activities. And I think, this is probably the easiest one. I cannot commit adultery because I'm not even in love.

Bestiality? Come on (no pun intended), the closest animals I have to me is a bunch of ants and a few baby roaches in office. I am Chinese but I'm already past puberty, man.

In fact, I'd rather eat M&Ms off a lady then commit adultery. Afterall, they melt in your mouth, not in your hands. And that's the way I like them ladies.

And by ladies, I mean chocolates.

2) Gluttony

This is an extremely tough one.

Anyone who knows me in real life (Ed's Note: Not you weird stalkers who read my blog) would know that I love Cheap Commercial Chocolates.

However, I am really lucky because one of the qualifiers for the sin of Gluttony is that one must consume till one causes shortages amongst the needy.

In all honesty, I don't think that the needy actually want that Kinder Bueno, with it's crispy wafer enclosing a rich, creamy hazelnut filling.

3) Greed

I have to admit, I crave every single Snickers bar out in the world.

Fortunately, this craving is not a perpetual one. I mean, sometimes I feel like gummy bears as well. Or sometimes, I think of money. So I guess I'm pretty much cleared on this one.

And I daresay that I have, and will, never peddle any of those wonderful little pieces of honey nougat-filled Toblerones in any places of faith, so I guess I will probably be innocent of Simony as well.

4) Sloth

This could be the one that kills me.

I mean, look at the time of posting! I'm in office, and all I'm doing is writing my resolutions on a blog that only I read.

However, I shall try to be not-so-slothful, because of the recent realisation that I am going to need a real job in about ten months, and that my current boss' testimonial will probably affect my next employment.

You can't blame me, though. Nobody can resist the temptation of having a break and having a Kit Kat.

(Ed's note: The previous sentence just committed the grammatical error of redundancy. However, I am a writer and therefore, I am allowed to do such things. It's called poetic license. So shove it.)

I mean, those Kit Kat wafer bars are just so light and fluffy!

5) Wrath

I don't really get angry unless I get provoked.

I mean it, asshole, so stop sniggering in your lousy excuse of a room.

Anyway, due to my Tellytubby-like personality, this is probably a no-brainer for me as well.

Unless, of course, you stole my Hershey's Kisses away. Which is actually a sin by itself, because I believe, and I quote the Bible here, 'thou shalt not covet another man's kiss'.

It's just wrong to steal my Kisses. They are so small and wonderful. In fact, nothing says 'I love you' like a packet of Hershey's Kisses. Perfect gifts for the upcoming Valentine's.

6) Envy

Like I said before, 'thou shalt not covet another man's kiss'.

I have never seeked another man's kiss, and I probably will not in 2008 as well.

However, I find myself filled with envy everytime I see a kid with a tube of Smarties. I admit, I have always fantasised of hitting a kid with an open tube of Smarties on the palms, so that all his Smarties will burst from his tube and shower over him.

(Ed's note: I swear that there is nothing sexual in that previous sentence.)

Even though it will probably be extremely difficult on me, I will have to grit my teeth and not hit any kids. Smarties are so damn good, they make me do things like that.

I will never know why, probably because only Smarties have the answer.

7) Pride

Allegedly the most serious of all seven.

However, I think this will probably be pretty damn easy for me. I don't even love myself!

Plus, I am awfully privileged to have the presence of Mars on this very Earth I walk on. In fact, I love Mars bars more than I love myself.

I mean, it contains wonderful layers of almonds, nougats and caramel. And as if to say 'Ha! You won't see this coming!', the inventor decided to wrap these layers in another layer of creamy, rich and smooth milk chocolate.

I certainly did not see that coming. I swear!*

And there you have it, the seven sins that I will not commit in 2008. Or at least I'll try not to.

Well, like all sponsored blog entries, this entry has a contest as well.

(Ed's note: It's like a tradition, an old charter or something.)

This one goes like this -

All you have to do is to write an email to hongxiang@everyoneloveshongxiang.com, with a reason why you deserve to win the prize.

And of course, do include your contact details and mailing address, so I can send you your prize.

Please, for the love of God, keep your reason to a maximum of 100 words. This is because I will not read any novels written by Toh Piang Kor (or whatever) about why he deserves to win a prize.

Oh, if you're wondering why I have not mentioned anything about the prize, then congratulations! You've been paying attention!

Well, you see, the prize will be a mystery. I'm not saying it's related to chocolates but it does have something to do with this entry. And just to up the ante, I will include autographed signed memorabilia from myself.

This contest will end on 31 Jan 2008.

Time to lift your pens, ladies and gentlemen!

*Nah, I'm kidding. I'm not swearing on that.

This entry mentions fingers, fat people, robotic chickens and Tom Jones. Oh and a proposal.

2007-12-22T15:15:00.000+08:00

I am really sorry for the lack of updates, but I met with a traffic accident two weeks ago which made me unable to type properly.

You see, my big-headed (literally) Wilson crushed my left index finger by slamming a car-door upon it. The finger became swollen and it was so bad that I secretly suspected that my fat friend Amos swapped our index fingers.

Well, luckily for all of us, the finger is now recovered and has shrunk back to it's original size.

Plus, my laptop self-destructed over last weekend. Everytime I turn the damn thing on, it does some sort of numbers-falling-from-top-to-bottom kinda thing, like in that movie where Keanu Reeves wore a leather skirt.

Well, enough of all my whinging, and allow me to tell you about a few nights back, when I went clubbing.

(Note: If you foresee an entry with a tender romance, taut with passion and desire, love and betrayal, bursting out of its leather pants with sex, scandal, mystery, suspense, drama, action and adventure, then this entry probably won't be for you. Sorry.)

Before going on, I hope you understand that clubbing has never been one of my favourite pastimes (those being stamp-collecting and train-spotting).

I never really understood the whole idea of paying an entrance fee to a place where you get diluted alcohol at exorbitant pricings, then proceed to dance like giant vibrating spazoids. Or ill-coordinated chickens, for that matter.

However, as it was the first night out after Tekong for my other-fat-friend Weilong (I only keep two of these around, they take up too much space), I had to grace the occasion with my presence.

It wasn't such a great idea, though. You see, we planned to go on Wednesday, when the DJ spins contemporary hits like Square Rooms and Dancing Queen. Hari Raya Haji, a public holiday in these parts, happened on Thursday though. And hence, almost the entire Singapore was there queuing up in front of Zouk (did I mention that we went to Zouk? No? Sorry, continuity error. It happens.).

And after two hours of queuing, those dastardly bouncers put up the full house sign. Luckily for us, my friend saw this has-been-celebrity-who-he-happens-to-know, and who is able to somehow bring the entire group of us into Zouk even though it's allegedly full house.

So in we went, and as if on cue, we jiggled like robotic chickens. Halfway through though, some smart-arsed Casanova-wannabe decided to propose to his girl on the dance floor.

Either that, or he placed a stranger on a podium and gave her flowers..

Personally, I prefer the former, because there really isn't anything to talk about the latter, is there?

Touched by this gesture (or was it the alcohol? Nobody knows for sure.), the crowd started cheering the very public couple.

I was at the bar when the cheering happened, and I couldn't see the proposal at first. My initial thought was that some one had taken off her top and was dodging bouncers. I swear it was the alcohol.

Anyway, I was left bitterly disappointed when I found out that it was only a marriage proposal.

Seriously, who the heck proposes in a club, on the public dance floor no less?

I mean, the idea of having your girlfriend drink so much that she'll say 'yes' to anything is quite smart one, but in a club with vibrating chickens and pounding Tantric music?

I can see how the conversation will go:

Guy: Will you marry me?
Girl: What?
Tom Jones: ... You're my sex-bomb!
Guy: WILL YOU MARRY ME?
Girl: GOOD OLD HAIRY YOU?

See? It just ain't worth it.

Eureka!

2007-12-02T20:31:00.000+08:00

Today, while I was on the way home, I discovered that when you replace both initial letters in 'road naming' with the letter 't', you will get 'toad taming'.

Thank you.

I am a golden god!

2007-11-26T22:51:00.001+08:00

Honestly.

I think I could be getting famous with this blogging thing. In fact, I think I already am famous.

You see, within the last month, I had five things happen to me. No wait, there were more, but those weren't relevant.

So anyway, there were five things that happened to me, and they were all related to the blog:

1) The number of visits to my blog exceeded 6000. And this time, I am pretty sure that only 2000 of these were me. In fact, I've had visitors from Canada, Australia, US, UK and even a country called 'Unknown'.

2) Hid, a friend of mine from way back, came around to my blog and posted a comment. Just in case you missed it:

"hahha you are still the same fucking genius. if i had a great blog i'd link you but that's under construction, just like the rest of me are. and this schizo cow, he's real? if he is, that's fucked man."

You know you're famous when friends from way back return. Oh, and I'm not trying to be suggestive, but she said 'fuck' twice in that same comment. Like I said, I'm not the one suggesting anything.

3) A stranger visited my blog and left a comment. She is the first ever stranger who left a comment, and that's good for her. (I like to think that everyone who visits my blog is a girl, you see.)

She said:

'you're freaking funny! hahahaha!'

Usually, I'd be pretty pissed if people described me as 'freaking', but since she followed that up with 'funny!' and laughed in a rather disturbing and spastic manner, I had to forgive her.

4) I received fan-mail, albeit a weird one. This came in the form of a private message on Frontallabs, a forum which discusses music:

From:	hoodedhootershookers
To:	Basshole
Posted:	Wed Nov 21, 2007 12:08 am
Subject:	scat xxx
i love your blog entries.i spent 2 hours reading them.u can haf mai babies.

Yes, I am Basshole. Don't ask me why I picked that nickname, and don't ask me why I clicked on a message titled 'scat xxx'. Please.

5) I can be Googled. And I think that's the most important one of all. Seriously, man.

Now you can go anywhere in the world, turn on the computer, connect to the internet, key my name 'hongxiang' into Google and POOF!

There I am, right between 'DBLP: Hongxiang Yang' and 'Hongxiang Plastic Industry production of beach table, beach chair, tents and other outdoor & travel equipment as well as other plastics products'!

Hence, like I said, this blog is making me famous. In fact, I will even sign an autograph for you if you print a screenshot of my blog and bring it to me on the street.

Now I know I haven't been forthcoming with pictures of myself, so it's gonna be tough on you fans. Well don't worry, cause here's a portrait of my family and I:

There used to be a time when people said 'You can't get famous by typing crap into the computer!'

Well, my dear people, you can wave those times goodbye, for I am famous for typing crap into the computer!

I learnt a practical English lesson.

2007-11-16T23:03:00.000+08:00

Because we are all good, clean and elitist Singaporeans, we speak English with pristine and immaculate grammar.

No wait.

The words 'Singaporeans', 'English' and 'grammar' just sound funny in the same sentence eh?

Moving on. (Before I break any laws, that is.)

Like many other kids in Singapore, I was incarcerated in a government-funded Primary School.

I was placed in a cell with about 39 other kids, and we all learnt fun stuff like how plants make their own food. And how vulnerable we humans are since we only make things like poo, which only the Japs would eat.

Credits to my school though, because I learnt a great deal about nifty things like algebra. I mean, seriously. Everytime I run into real-life problems, I could always count on algebraic formulas to save the proverbial day.

But I am not going to detail my mathematical adventures here. (For more of that stuff, you can head on to UtarEmpire. He's a Math major who hates humanity and loves flowers. Go figure.)

One tiny problem I have with the education system here is that while it teaches us practical things like algebra, it also puts an unhealthily heavy emphasis on impractical things like useless phrases.

Honestly, the things I learnt in English class would astound you:

'Momo monster drank hot tea!'

'His raincoat is blue.'

'Ali, Peter and Gopal have a pile of three apples each. How many apples would Peter have if he took two apples from each pile?'

Okay, fine, the last one was from Maths. But hey, you got the point.

You see, the fact is, nobody says 'Momo monster drank hot tea!' in real life. (Maybe Schizo Cow would, but that's another story.)

And that's where the problem lies.

Fortunately for me, Auntie Hell from my office gave me an English lesson yesterday, and boy, was it good!

We always talk about power stares or power suits, but we forget about the power speech. (I don't know, power sentences? Power phrases? Power lines? Gee, I really like them brackets.)

And Auntie Hell sure gave me one hell of a lesson in that.

She said over MSN last night:

'You be in office tomorrow.'

Now as we can all see, it is an instruction instead of a question, simply because it ends in a period and not a question mark. Naturally, as a guy, I had to have the last word, so I said:

'Yea.'

And I thought there was no way she could beat that. I mean, what can you say to 'Yea'?!

But I was wrong. So. Very. Wrong.

She merely uttered (and I knew she uttered even though it was on MSN, because she typed in small caps. Damn these brackets are cool.):

'good.'

There. I couldn't top that. Honestly, I had nothing to say to that. I thought of 'better', but she would probably beat my ass with 'best'. (Hey that rhymes!)

And it was effective, because I did go to work today.

(Oh and by the way, Peter would have six apples. Damn those sneaky white bastards!)

(I had to add these brackets in, because eight is my favourite number.)

The point of this entry.

2007-11-13T11:14:00.000+08:00

I am, unfortunately, a Singaporean male. This means that I am obligated to own an iPod and to go through National Service, which is this program that forces every male in Singapore to go to military school and pick up some vulgarities.

Fortunately for me (or unfortunately?), my spine is as crooked as the government and thus, I am not considered combat-fit.

Nevertheless, my beloved country still decided that it was in her best interests to conscript me anyway, and then see what I can do for them.

So here I am, in a cold office surrounded by incompetent fools.

But that's not the point.

I love my job, I really do. Much of my National Service is spent answering the phone, where people call and ask questions which I usually have no answer to. So I usually do what every man does when in a conversation with a woman - grunt at appropriate moments.

These people usually feel better after that. I guess hearing me grunt can be therapeutic.

But that's not the point either.

Part of my job also includes handling a particular schizophrenic who's daily routine revolves around calling me.

He shall be called Schizo Cow for the sake of anonymity on this blog, and his story seems to be a tragic one. He confessed to me sometime back that he was framed for mass-murder and his victims included his primary school teacher and neighbours.

Naturally, I had my doubts about this, because schizophrenics tend to imagine things.

Nonetheless, I entertain him everytime he calls, because I am affectionately known as his 'only friend' in the world. He doesn't have any other friends because nobody believes his story.

I wonder why.

Anyway, Schizo Cow has a nemesis, in the form of one Eric. I have no idea who this Eric is, but Schizo Cow insists that Eric cut his pubic hair back when they were in the Navy. It's amazing what some people do when they think nobody's watching.

So like any other day, Schizo Cow called me this morning and updated me on his daily adventures:

Schizo Cow: Hello Johnny! (Yea, he couldn't pronounce my name so I asked him to call me Johnny)

Me: Yes?

Schizo Cow: You know, I was buying rice today and the auntie gave me a lot of fish! I was very happy because she gave me very little fish yesterday. But when I went home I found that the fish had a lot of bones! I think they are trying to kill me for revenge! You know why? Because they think that I killed a lot of people. I got blood on my hands. True story Sir.

Me: *grunt*

Schizo Cow: True story Sir! I think Eric poisoned their minds and tell them that I killed a lot of people in Tanglin Halt Primary School. Sir, is Eric still in prison? (Yes, I lied to him about Eric being in prison. Whatever to make him feel safe, man.)

Me: *grunt*

Schizo Cow: Huh?

Me: Oh yes, yes.

Schizo Cow: Wah so long? Good good. Sir, do you think that Eric's wife can come to my house and atone for Eric's mistakes? *insert uncomfortable chuckle here* (Uncomfortable to me, that is)

Me: *grunt*

Schizo Cow: Sometimes I don't know if Eric is an Angel or a Devil sent to punish me.

Me: Have you taken your medicine today?

Schizo Cow: Ok, thank you Sir byebye!

This happens almost daily, and that, my friends, is the point of this entry.

I turned 21... and stuff.

2007-11-05T10:31:00.000+08:00

Well, I haven't been updating frequently, but in all seriousness, I am still alive.

In fact, I am very much alive, considering the fact that I just turned 21 over the weekend.

I honestly and sincerely wish that I have many more birthdays ahead, because statistics have shown that the people with the most birthdays usually live longest.

Anyway, I don't like birthdays. I believe that it's one of the most brilliant marketing ploy by Hallmark, and people just use it as an excuse to get drunk. Or eat cake.

I am, in fact, a rebel without a pause, and so I protested against such viral marketing tactics by refusing to drink or eat cake.

I had a normal meal with a couple of friends at a neighbourhood coffeeshop (because they are all poor sods) and proceeded to play poker at a friend's place on the eve of my birthday. When the clock struck 12, my friends tried to pin me down and take my pants off.

They did not succeed and I won $8.

On another note, I gained 5kg. I have no idea how this happened, or when it started happening, but it did. In fact, I only found out when my friend commented that I look pregnant. And I like it.

I now weigh a grand total of 70kg. That is amazing, considering the fact that I haven't been working out at all.

My Mum is not so keen on that, though. Her immediate reaction when I told her that I gained 5kg was this:

'That's enough.'

I thought she asked me to shut up, considering the fact that she's fat and all, but no. She was referring to the 5kg. So I went from twiggy to to skinny, and she thinks that I've overdone it.

Whoop-dee-doo.

But I am not going to stop. No way. In fact, I just bought a box of Kellogg's Frosties, and I intend to finish them as soon as humanely possible.

Oh, and I absolutely have to say this. I dislike one colleague of mine, and I have to rant here.

She (or he? I don't know. I am a mysterious bastard.) is extremely stupid, and does not work at all. And by 'at all', I mean 'at all'. Let's just call her Tomato for convenience's sake.

Tomato strolls into office every morning at 830am, and reads the papers until it's 930am. Then she goes for her breakfast and returns at 10am. After that, it's funtime for her as she scours the internet for the latest horoscope news, chat with her friends on the phone, download malicious attachments from her Hotmail account or walk around the office.

After doing all that, she goes home at 445pm, more than half an hour before the end of her shift.

And today, I told her that Auntie Hell would be on leave. Her immediate response was 'Oh, she celebrates Deepavali too?'

Well, Tomato has been on leave for half of last week, and will be on leave again for half of this. Auntie Hell was on leave for last Friday and today. And Tomato is unhappy.

Unfortunately for Auntie Hell, though, everyone in the office prefers Tomato. This is because Auntie Hell lacks people skills and Tomato has that in abundance. In fact, Tomato has this irritating knack of appearing to do a lot, while actually achieving very little.

However, Auntie Hell is a much better worker than Tomato will ever be. At least, Auntie Hell doesn't screw up as many times as Tomato has.

Oh, and while I'm typing this, Tomato is Googling for make-up tips. Just another day in the office.

Knock, knock, knocking on the backdoor.

2007-10-27T03:07:00.000+08:00

The past few days were probably one of the most exciting periods in Singaporean history, almost as exciting as the day the Singaporean Overlord cried on national TV in 1965.

What the heck am I going on about?

Well, the entire saga started when a bunch of kids got bored with life and started a website. They weren't really smart people though, so the only way to garner attention to their website was to say something controversial. Their choice? To legalize anal sex!

A little while later, another bunch of people received the news of the new very-controversial website and decided to have one of their own. They were extremely creative and started a website with a different name. The message was different as well, and that was to keep anal sex banned.

Yes, anal sex is still banned in Singapore, like bubble gum, littering and lynching.

Anyway, a fight was brewing in the horizon.

In the blue corner, we have repeal377a.com. These people are a bunch of activists who are trying to get the law changed, so that we can all have anal sex legally. Their objective is to push for equal treatment before the law. Sure, I mean, legal anal sex is all about equal treatment before the law, and not one thing about pleasure, right?

On the other hand, we have a group of parents and conservatives who are trying to keep the law at keep377a.com. Basically, these people believe that repealing 377a of the Penal Code will turn all our kids gay and corrode our values. Plus, they also know for a fact that it is anal sex, and not promiscuous sex, that spreads HIV. Very smart observations.

And just as we expected, the funkier pink brigade has their own mascot - the famous wizard Dumbledore, who is known to perform wonders with his wand.

The conservative relics, however, chose to name everyone as their mascot, calling everyone 'The Majority'. Smart move in doing that, cause that just made that old lady in the corner a fighter for their cause.

So they got their own websites and started slinging shots at each other, calling each other prudes and homos. Ah, just another intellectual debate in Singapore.

Then the law spoke. Apparently, the law of the land has decided that anal sex should be illegal still.

This means that all of us, no matter straight or gay, must take note of a few things:

(in order of importance)

1) The pick-up line, 'Can I push that stool in for you?' is still illegal.

2) There could be a new team designated to take down people who engage in anal sex. Butt Patrol anyone? Oh, and hurray for new employment opportunities!

3) In order to assist the Butt Patrollers, a similar squad of canines must be set-up. We could call it the Butt Mutts.

4) Public displays of affection towards unicorns are still frowned upon.

5) Anal sex is actually illegal.

Hence, here's my advice to all the hot-blooded adolescents out there in Singapore: remember, anal sex is just like littering - it's illegal when you get caught!

I feel like shit.

2007-10-22T08:44:00.000+08:00

And that's exactly how I feel.

One reason is that I've only had about four hours of sleep. That's only half of the amount I require to stay healthy and generally less depressed. Plus, that's what the average human needs anyway, and I'm pretty much your average human being.

Being the strict regimental Army guy also requires me to divide my day up into a timetable. For now, my timetable is divided into three parts - bumming around in office for about eight hours, bumming around at home for about five hours, and then sleeping for about eight hours. Isn't my life productive?

So this has screwed up my timetable big time, and I don't like to be screwed around.

(You may wonder where the other three hours are. Well, here's a surprise for you, I prepare for work. I shower and wear clothes and do things like that. And yes, that can take up three hours, before and after work.)

To make things worse, I am currently suffering from a mysterious illness. Just to let you know, I have been suffering from a viral infection since last Thursday. I have no idea what virus it is, but it gives me a runny nose, a cough and a bad headache. I have this sneaky feeling that it might just be flu.

And that's not even the mysterious illness I currently suffer from. No no no.

I woke up this morning with a weird dull pain in my right armpit. I have no idea what it is. Don't tell me bullshit like 'Oh you must have fallen on your right armpit.' Give me a break. Let's face it, nobody ever falls on his armpit. It's just impossible.

So to sum it up, I'm feeling extremely miserable on a rainy Monday morning because I do not have enough sleep and may be suffering from a Cancer of the Armpits.

What a brilliant start to the week.

I'm an adult now.

2007-10-19T00:11:00.001+08:00

If you noticed, the address of this blog has now changed from long and inconvenient http://everyoneloveshongxiang.blogspot.com, to the short and concise http://everyoneloveshongxiang.com.

This change was brought about by a kind soul I met online. Instead of using blogspot.com to host my blog, I can now use his webspace to do it. Nifty.

This also means I own a piece of the Internet. I have never really owned anything in my life, so this is a novelty.

Well, I'm still twiddling with it for now, so I don't really know the real potential of this thing.

But one thing I know for sure, is that I have my own domain, and with it, my own email address.

HONGXIANG@EVERYONELOVESHONGXIANG.COM. How cool is that?!

My colleague commented that it sounds like a porn-site, but I've never been to one before, so I don't really know.

Anyway, I don't really have anything to update with. All I really wanted to say was this:

I own PROPERTY.

Thanks.

Because they're worth it.

2007-10-08T21:31:00.000+08:00

I'll be totally honest about this - I wasn't intending to update this blog at all today. However, I found out that it was Animal Week right now.

Being the socially responsible blogger that I am, I felt compelled to inform everybody who's reading the blog that this week, 4th Oct to 10th Oct, is the official World Animal Week 2007.

The official message is apparently 'Save the Fauna!'

No wait, I'm not so sure about that.

Anyway, I have heard people say that a picture is worth a thousand words, and being the lazy sod that I am, I shall post a picture instead of a thousand words.

As we can all see, gorillas rule. From that picture alone, we can possibly conclude that the gorillas are ideologically more advanced than many churches in the world. They also happen to look like my friends, so I feel a certain emotional bondage to them.

I also have here a little poem about animals -

I gaze at the sky,
And try to fly.
But no matter how I try,
I can never fly high.
One day, a man came around,
And it was time to say goodbye.
I can no long try now,
'cause I am in a chicken pie.

In case you're intellectually challenged, the poem is indeed about chickens. I like chickens.

To conclude this post, I would like to end with a strong message - save the fauna!

Because gorillas rule and chickens cluck.

Let's talk about sex, baby.

2007-10-01T21:20:00.001+08:00

The title of this entry is not at all suggestive. In fact, it is entirely factual and was derived from an incident that happened to me a few days ago.

Last week, I brought a new colleague of mine to the shop at my office's canteen. My colleague wanted to order a new name-tag, which he says will reflect his name more accurately.

So I brought him to the shop which does name-tags and he placed his order.

I had nothing to do while he wrote his name, so instead of staring at the shopkeeper, I started yakking to her.

It was a bad move.

One good way of talking to strangers (now I'm not saying that we should, but it's just a good way that we can) is to talk about the occasion. So I said, 'Hey can I change my name-tag to 'H. Ye' instead of my full name, 'Ye HongXiang?''

The shopkeeper said, 'Why do you want that?'

So I explained myself, and said that I didn't want to have my full name plastered on my chest all the time.

She gave me a look and said, 'Well, if you have money, you can have anything.'

I have to admit that the sexual tension in the air then made me rather uncomfortable.

This is top grade entertainment.

2007-09-24T22:52:00.000+08:00

Like many other posts on this blog, we shall start with a joke.

Rumour has it that Donald Trump will be coming up with a new line of mattresses, because that's one source of income he hasn't got his hands on.

And the marketing tagline for these mattresses?

'YOU'RE TIRED!'

HAHAHA.

Yes, I'm at the top of my game.

Moving on.

Have you guys heard about this movie called The Bourne Ultimatum?

I watched it recently, and it was good ol' family-oriented entertainment.

In a nutshell, it is about this guy who wakes up in the middle of the ocean a few years ago. He cannot remember who he is or what he did, so he travels around the world to find that out.

To make things interesting, there is an organisation who happens to know who he is and what he did. And they travel around the world to kill him.

Does this confuse you?

That's what I thought.

Luckily for you, I chanced upon a scene which basically sums up the whole movie.

In this scene, our main guy (who cannot remembers who he is or what he did) gets ambushed by someone from the organisation (which remembers who he is and what he did). Our main guy (who cannot remembers who he is or what he did) turns around and pummels the guy, pummels the guy, and then he pummels the guy.

Just when that someone from the organisation (which remembers who he is and what he did) drops and you think it's over, our main guy (who cannot remembers who he is or what he did) strangles him.

Like I said, good ol' family entertainment.

Oh and by the way, one of my favourite television shows is gonna be back!

It's called Heroes, and the second season premieres today.

Basically, it's about these bunch of people who discover that they've got superhuman powers. I love this series for it's originality. Anyway, it's just like X-Men the cartoon series, except with more real people and less spandex.

I am very much looking forward to this season's offering, because the past season has left me wondering if the bunch of people will ever defeat that mysterious villain and get out from that weird island.

No wait.

Oh well, it's a nice show. Just don't quote me on that.

Oh! A friend of mine showed me a blog the other day, and it was quite disturbing. It's at http://hailmequeen.wordpress.com and it basically writes about the same things as I do. On that blog, the writer (Ali) writes about things like drinks, hot people, fat people and other people.

It is very intellectual.

And although I have about 5000 hits now, I still have the sneaky suspicion that about 4900 of these are from my parents (bless them), and the rest are from myself when I try to edit my blog. And I worry that whatever that remains of my readers will be drawn to http://hailmequeen.wordpress.com.

Because:

1) That writer has an easy name. Ali is so much easier to pronounce than HongXiang.
2) Ali is a writer/journalist, while I struggle to pronounce anything with more than four syllables.
3) Ali mentions the word 'sex' in the introduction to her blog. Mine says 'genius'. Nobody ever googles 'genius'.
4) Ali also mentions 'anatomy' in the same introduction. That means her blog has now covered both layman pervs and scientific pervs.

Any way I look at it, I'm screwed.

Actually, I'm kidding. The entire previous passage was just bollocks, and I actually know Ali. She's quite cool, and you can read what she says at http://hailmequeen.wordpress.com.

Just remember to come back here, please. I'll change my name to John or something.

Feelin' trippy

2007-09-17T22:49:00.000+08:00

Tomorrow marks the end of my first year in National Service.

And it is extremely depressing.

It means that I have been doing the same thing for a year now, and I will be doing the same thing for one more year.

Because of this and several disturbingly similar thoughts, I have been extremely unmotivated. I have never been a motivated person, but there used to be some days when I tortured myself by typing stuff.

Now, I've even lost that masochistic streak.

Thus, I have decided to take a break soon and go for a holiday.

My friends, on more than one occasion, have asked me to go on a short trip to Thailand. I don't know about you, but advertisements I watched on television back in my childhood told me that I'll contract AIDS if I ever go to Thailand.

Since then, I always had an innate fear that I would go to Thailand, blow all my money on tom yam soup, have a diarrhea, contract AIDS from a dirty toilet seat, and die in anonymity on foreign soil.

And hence, Thailand is out.

My colleague then suggested Australia, and I thought it was brilliant. I mean, there's the beaches; the sun, the sand and the sea. There are also many Australians in Australia, most of whom seem like nice people from what I gather on Channel 5. I would have considered Australia, but I'm not really a beach person. I don't go outdoors much, actually.

So I sat myself down at work during office hours, and gave my holiday plans some serious thought.

I recalled a random video I watched years ago, and it showed this little kid running about in a house. The kid runs into a woman, looks up with glee, and says 'Bonjour, mama!'

I decided right there - I had to go to France.

I mean, it's a land of geniuses! After doing some in-depth research, I found out that almost everyone speaks French fluently over there. Isn't it amazing? While Singapore is probably the best country in the world, not many here can say that they speak French fluently.

But they do in France!

Isn't it amazing? Even that little kid could say 'Bonjour, mama!' It took me almost 14 years to do that. I'd have to travel there and bask in the glory of these linguistics maestros.

There remains one teeny problem, though. My passport has been expired for the past ten years.
It is now on my 'Things to do when I get out of the house' list, right up there with 'pick a fight with a kid' and 'Rihanna'.

The things I do.

2007-09-10T23:12:00.000+08:00

Well, you may remember from this post that one of my New Year resolutions was to gain a total of 15kg.

It's September now, and about three quarters of the year is gone. Let me provide you with an update!

Some time back in July, I lost 2kg. I had no idea why, and I blamed it on my regular jogging. My solution? I stopped jogging altogether, and stocked up on junk food.

It worked, and that 2kg came back to me. But alas! My weight remained at 65kg, even though I've stopped jogging for the past two months and have been stuffing my face with junk food.

My big-headed (literally) friend, Wilson, suggested that I should do some gym training. It sounded really good, except for one small problem.

There simply isn't any time!

How the heck do you find time to work out, when you don't even want to?

Besides, I'm exhausted from all the sleeping man.

Let me tell you, sleeping is extremely demanding physically. For example, I injured my elbow just the other day, when I tried to reach the switch of the fan while lying on my bed.

In addition to sleeping, I have to do nothing. I'm not complaining though - I love doing nothing. I personally believe that doing nothing is one of the great hobbies in the world, just like collecting stamps and train-spotting.

There is just one small glitch with this hobby though. It pretty much ends conversations. Just think about it.

Me: Hey! What did you guys do for the long weekend?
Friends: Oh! We went trekking! What about you?
Me: Me? Oh, I did nothing.
Friends: Really? Wow, you should join us next time!
Me: ... Nah, I'd rather die.

See my point?

A nation united.

2007-09-03T21:20:00.000+08:00

This is a public service announcement from the friendly folks at http://everyoneloveshongxiang.blogspot.com.

Due to the heavy rainfall across the country recently, I am not wearing any socks.

And that was a public service announcement brought to you by the folks at http://everyoneloveshongxiang.blogspot.com.

Seriously though, the weather has been pretty busy raining these few days.

Nobody really likes it when it rains, but the rain has this curious effect of uniting every Singaporean.

Everytime it rains, the entire Singapore just unite in their misery. Everyone just sulks and wallow in self-pity together.

I witnessed an example of this today.

I was at this big Armed Forces psi-ops thing called the Army Open House today, and it was jolly good fun, considering the fact that it was the military who organised the whole thing.

They did a great job though. Afterall, 95% of the military's job is to look like they can overcome everything. And they certainly did well in that aspect.

Anyway, everything went smoothly till the afternoon.

Then, it started to rain.

With military precision and efficiency, everybody gathered around one another on wooden benches and sulked. They complained about the weather, the boredom, life and the general state of things.

It was incredible to see our nation unite in times of adversity, regardless of race, language or religion.

Another one bites the dust.

2007-08-27T22:49:00.000+08:00

The weather has been pretty crazy these days, swinging from oppressively hot to depressingly rainy within hours.

Perhaps, because of this, people around me have been falling sick. Like a true hypochondriac, I was worried for the past 2 weeks or so that I would be struck down with a virus of some kind sooner or later.

And true enough, I fell sick within days of worrying.

I wake up, and it feels like there is a mountaineering expedition going on inside my throat. Pickaxes, pitons, crampons, knives, and then they start a fire in there.

Then I go 'What the hell is that?! Oh wait, it's my throat that's glowing. Close your mouth, it's keeping me awake.'

To make things worse, I've been having problems with my nose. People say that I should be glad because most guys my age are having relationship issues, monetary issues, but seriously, they've got no issue until they've got a sinus issue.

Every single morning, I wake up and my nose just starts running. To be honest, I have no problems with that at all, except that it makes me look like a drug addict.

I end up using a lot of tissues because during the mornings and nights, my nose just keeps running. In the day, I perspire. This is really bad, because it means that I need tissue whenever I am awake.

And it doesn't help that my parents give me a dirty look everytime I bring a new box of tissues into my room.

I think it might be something drastic like pneumonia, but people around me (the same bastards who gave me the germs) keep reassuring me that it's just a cold.

Well, this 'cold' has been going on for almost six days, assholes.

Anyway, fret not, people. Despite being saddled with mounting health problems, I shall persevere in this blogging thing.

And you people should be thinking to yourselves, 'So sick and he's still blogging? Damn! He is one brave son-of-a-bitch!'

They are the cartoon heroes!

2007-08-14T22:33:00.000+08:00

Oh my. Once again, I took two weeks to update my blog again. I think I should change the blog into a fortnightly column instead, don’t you think?

Well, I’m really sorry for this. However, I hope you guys understand that blogging is a big effort for me. I am terrible at writing in English and everytime I try to post something on my blog, I have to submit my posts to a couple of my friends for vetting. My friends are really slow readers, so it’s not entirely my fault that my blog gets updated so infrequently.

Anyway, did you hear about this ODEX saga?

Basically, ODEX is this Singaporean company that imports cartoons from Japan, pack them into low-resolution VCDs/DVDs, and try to sell them to kids at about $10 to $30 each.

Ingenious business plan huh?

Surprisingly, their business did not do well.

Apparently, cartoon fans have decided that ‘Hey! That’s quite an expensive price to pay for pixelated cartoons! Why don’t we download quality cartoons from the Internet for free?’

ODEX’s low-resolution VCDs/DVDs faced a huge competitor in the form of the Internet, which offered good quality versions of the same cartoons for free. Their sales dipped drastically, as a result.

It is very sad.

One day in 2007, however, ODEX had another ingenious idea (after deciding to sell low-resolution cartoons at $10 each). They started sending letters to cartoon fans who were downloading cartoons, and threatened to sue them unless they pay some money to ODEX.

Now, I am not a legal expert, but I have this gut feeling that threatening people to pay you is against the law.

This saga also reminds me of a little fat kid from my primary school.

A long time ago, when I was still in primary school, there was this little fat kid in my school who would buy big packets of sweets from the neighbourhood store for three bucks each.

Fatty would then try to sell these sweets at fifty cents per candy to other little kids. However, the other kids were smarter than him and refused to buy, because they could get it for free from their parents.

Fatty got angry and started threatening those little kids who did not buy candy from him. He demanded for their recess money and used these to buy more sweets and sell. This went on for quite a while.

One day, the teacher found out about what Fatty was doing and caned him in public for bullying. The Fatty had three cane marks across his butt-cheeks and a ton of sweets that he could not sell.

Will this happen to ODEX too?

Oh! And there seems to be a twist to this saga.

Some people on the Internet (here and here) seem to have found an interesting nugget of information.

Apparently, Mr Stephen Sing Xin Yang, a director at ODEX and Secretary to Anti-Video Piracy Association of Singapore, made gloating remarks on an Internet forum.

He was using the moniker ‘xysing’ and here’s a capture of what he said:

I have no idea what 'double-6-ed' means, but I definitely would not want to be 'double-6-ed' by this guy, also known as Mr Stephen Sing Xin Yang:

Well, after reading his comments, I was tempted to call him a ‘callous bastard who gloats over the misfortunes of others and delights in causing misery to young innocuous kids.’

However, I am a careful social blogger and I have an image to uphold. Hence, I checked with my legal team and they advised me to call him ‘Mr Stephen Sing’ instead.

I guess I have no choice but to obey the law. If I don’t, ODEX might just send me a letter because I didn’t buy stuff from them.

The things that changed the world.

2007-07-31T22:22:00.001+08:00

My God! It’s been two weeks since I last updated my blog, and oh my, has the world changed!

First, and perhaps most importantly, my blog has received 4,000 hits already!

This means that either 4,000 people came to my blog, got disgusted and left straightaway, I’ve been subconsciously refreshing my blog obsessively, or five of my friends have read my blog a few hundred times each.

No matter what the true scenario is, I am really happy and proud. I have no idea why, but I have a sneaky suspicion that it may be because these numbers kinda stroke one’s ego.

Anyway, I mentioned that the world has changed drastically during these two weeks, and I think it may be due to the release of that Harry Potter book. The book was released at midnight on the 21^st July and I heard it sold a few million copies within the first day.

Gee, I hope that timing doesn’t hurt their sales!

The latest installment, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, has Hermoine breaking Harry’s wand by accident while they were alone in the forest.

Besides this, Harry also battles that big bad guy called Voldemort and finally defeats him with – oh wait, does anyone really cares?

Oh and talking about this Potter chap, he apparently has a movie out in the theaters too. It is called Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, and is once again about Harry battling this guy called Voldemort.

I think the fights between Harry and Voldemort is quite a central theme to this series. What do you think?

Anyhow, I’ve seen this movie, and oh my god, was it entertaining! Harry thrills the audience by performing lots of card tricks and coin tricks. Somehow, he always knows what card the audience picks!

Harry fever has affected some people badly though. When I was watching the movie in the theater, someone had a relapse of ‘Harry Fever’, stood up, and flashed his wand around.

That aside, it was a wholesome family experience.

Here’s a video I captured from the big screen with my camera:

On the topic of videos, have you guys seen the new video by Osama bin Laden?

I’ve watched it, and you guys should do that too. I think you can sign up for this service with Starhub Cable or something, and they’ll play all the latest terrorist videos for you. I mean, with all the price-hikes, they’ll have to add some value to their line-up!

Anyway, the video was very disturbing. This guy is a maniacal pest to all humans, and there was a lot of pointless ranting and empty threats made to everyone who hates him. Oh wait, am I talking about Steven Lim or Osama bin Laden? I get confused easily.

I think it’s time for some good news. These feel good sections seem to be a recurring theme of my blog in recent posts, hmm. Oh well.

My big-headed friend, Wilson, recently showed me this Youtube link of an artist named Marie Digby (Mar-ree-eh Dig-bee, I think).

Marie is an up-and-coming singer/songwriter who has posted videos of herself of Youtube. In these videos, she plays either a piano or a guitar, and sings covers of immensely popular songs.

Does it sound clichéd to you so far? Well, here’s the twist. Marie sings while doing a headstand.

Nah, I’m kidding.

Seriously though, Marie has bags of talent. She is an eye-pleaser, and her vocals are smooth and sincere. Not only can she sing and play at the same time, she even writes her own songs. I think that’s why she calls herself a songwriter.

Well, here’s a video of her performing a song she wrote:

Pretty impressive huh?

I have to admit that I can’t write a song to save my life. The last time I tried to write a song, it turned out to be a disaster. It went somewhere along the lines of:

I am your part-time lover;

Sometimes loving;

Sometimes working;

Other times sleeping.

Needless to say, nobody really liked it.

Update: The weather is still hot and I'm still paranoid

2007-07-17T22:54:00.000+08:00

Has anyone noticed how atrocious the weather has been?

I’ve been sweating so profusely that I lost 2 whole kilograms! That’s criminal!

The temperature has been in the thirties, and it has been extremely irritating and bothersome. Sounds just like my boss.

Anyway, the weather has been so hot that the American Government has now increased the bounty on Osama bin Laden to 50 million dollars and a lifetime’s supply of Paddlepops. Now that’s one helluva deal!

Oh! And during my regular-net-surfing-cum-slacking-time in the office, I discovered that there was a new Seven Wonders of the World.

Basically, for the uninformed, the Seven Wonders of the World are man-made structures that used to be grand, but are now quite obsolete. They also make people wonder ‘what the hell is this thing for again?’

The new Seven Wonders of the World are, in no consequential order: Taj Mahal, Great Wall of China, Christ Redeemer, Petra of Jordan, Machu Picchu of Peru, The Roman Colosseum and Chichen Itza in Mexico.

However, I personally feel that seven is not enough. They should have at least ten wonders!

For example, I would propose the following three wonders of the world:

1) Merlion

- Man-made? Check.

- Used to be grand? Check.

- Currently obsolete? Check.

-'What the hell is this thing for again?' Check, definitely.

2) and 3) Pamela Anderson's Chest

- Man-made? Check.

- Used to be grand? Hell yeah.

- Currently obsolete? Arguably.

- 'What the hell is this thing for again?' Baywatch has ended, people.

And there you have it, the Ten Wonders of the World.

On a personal note, I have been suffering for the past week.

I have been incredibly ill with a blocked nose, and I was living in fear for my precious, fragile life.

A blocked nose is an extremely serious ailment. It can result in asphyxia, which then in turn causes cerebral hypnoxia. Basically, you die.

This explains why I have not been updating my blog. Do you even think that I’ll be motivated to blog, when the very life I blog about is in danger?

That is why I have been walking around with an open jaw for the past week. My apologies to the people who saw me last week. It is nothing personal; I just had to open my mouth to continue living.

Thank God now, however, that I have recovered. Though I think that an entire week of walking around with my mouth agape has left my throat full of bacteria. Maybe this is why I have been coughing for the past few days.

Scary isn’t it? A cough can lead to pneumonia, and subsequently, you die.

But wait! Here’s something to lift the somber mood of my blog!

While snooping around the Internet, I found something that caught my interest.

Some students in Ngee Ann Poly are starting an organization called the ‘School of Rock’.

The instruments available are guitars, keyboards, bass and drums. There are four weekly lessons in a month, and it will only cost $35/month.

That rate is extremely cheap and reasonable. The best part is that anyone, absolutely anyone, can join this organization. You don’t even have to be an NP alumni. That’s how easy it is.

So if you’re interested, just drop Ming a note at kayjm10@hotmail.com.

I know I’ll be doing that.

Oh, and please make sure that you are very interested in music! The last thing this organization need, in my personal opinion, are people who turn up for one lesson and disappear after that.

Please don’t waste their time, and your time too!

That's hot!

2007-07-08T23:03:00.000+08:00

Regular readers of my blog (Yes all five of you!) will notice that I have changed my blog layout.

I think this is much better than my emo-rainbow layout which I’ve been using for the past three years or so.

The coolest part is that the navigation bar MOVES. I have no idea how it works, but as long as it’s cool, who cares?

In light of the recent change, I felt confident enough to submit my blog for a review on KrispyBlogs.

It was kinda fun to read what people have to say about my blog.

In actual fact, the review went quite well, and here are some excerpts from it:

‘…pretty good… very efficient and sleek…’

The quotes are true! You can check it out for yourself at Krispyblogs! I do not tell lies at all.

The reviewer, Ryan, was a little mistaken though. He said that my blog was ‘too new’, but the truth is, my blog has been around for the past five years or so.

I am sneaky like that.

Anyway, I went for my first physiotherapy session last Wednesday, and it was pretty intense.

Due to my scoliosis, I have to undergo ‘shockwave treatment.’ I have to admit, I was a little apprehensive when the physiotherapist told me that I have to go through ‘shockwave treatment’. I don’t really like people shaking my body.

I was very relieved when the physiotherapist explained to me later that the treatment actually uses heat to soothe my back muscles.

On the day of treatment, the physiotherapist asked me to change into a t-shirt, shorts and slippers. Then he made me lie on a bed and gave me a pillow to rest on.

After doing all these, he warns me against sleeping, saying that the machine might burn me if I fall asleep.

So, I change into comfortable clothing, lie on a bed and pillow, but I cannot sleep because if I do, I might catch fire?!

The treatment lasted 20 minutes, and I felt like I was in an oven. I have never felt more like a chicken in my entire life before.

Luckily though, I did not catch fire. I think it’s because I stayed awake throughout the entire treatment.

Talking about heat, has anyone noticed how hot the weather has been for the past few weeks?

It’s like we warped into Africa all of a sudden or something!

I certainly hope it is not true that we’re now in Africa, because if we are, we would be in big trouble. People like Angelino Jolie and Madonna will come and steal our babies, then proceed to give them funny names.

On a more serious note, the world is definitely heating up. Yesterday, concerts were held all across the globe with the aim of encouraging people to lead greener lives.

While I question the efficiency of the concerts (the electricity used to light the stages can allegedly power ten houses), I must admit that the aim is quite noble.

Here are some of the ways that we all can help:

1) Drive less – Cars emit a lot of carbon dioxide, as we all know by now. Driving less would reduce the emission of CO2. Also, after watching this documentary on vehicles, I am convinced that cars are just aliens in disguise.

2) Re-use plastic bags – Plastic bags are non-biodegradable, and pollute the environment excessively. The way we use plastic bags nowadays is just criminal. Re-use your bags when shopping for groceries, or better still, spend $0.80 on an environmentally-friendly shopping bag.

3) Save electricity – Turn off the power points when appliances are not in use. These appliances use electricity even though they are on standby mode. Just turning off the power points will save you lots of money, and save the planet at the same time.

These are just a few of the many ways we can help to save our world. I am not trying to preach to people, but global warming is a very real threat, and it may just ruin the world if we do not make an effort to stop it.

Like what my physiotherapist said, if we all fall asleep, the world would be on fire.

I also have a bit of plugging to do. I ordered a pendant from this really cool guy a few days ago, and it arrived yesterday. I am extremely happy with it!

Instead of all those passé metallic pendants most douchebags are wearing nowadays, Plastik Sputnik pendants use acrylic and have a variety of interesting designs for you to choose from.

These are some of the designs:

These cost just $15 a piece, and trust me, they are extremely worth it.

You can email Plastik Sputnik at plastiksputnik@gmail.com for more info.

I know, they are made of plastics and harm the environment. So once you order a piece from Plastik Sputnik, redeem yourself by re-using all your plastic bags!

My life is exciting.

2007-06-29T18:38:00.000+08:00

It’s been a while since I last attempted to write something coherent on my blog, and frankly, quite a lot has happened.

For example, I discovered that I am allergic to some fruit, had a surreal conversation with a stranger and even had time to watch a movie.

Quite a few days ago, I was feeling really thirsty on my way home from town or somewhere. I decided to pop into 7-Eleven and get a drink.

I was feeling a little depressed and paranoid, so I went straight for the alcohol section. I saw a bottle going for $4.95 and thought ‘This is it!’

Yes I know, I’m really cheap.

Anyway, I finished the entire bottle within 5 minutes, and almost immediately, I felt weird.

It was as if my eyes were swelling up and getting all teary.

I rushed home and looked into the mirror and damn! My eyes were puffy and teary!

I became more depressed and paranoid right then.

I looked at the bottle, searching straight for the ‘ingredients’ section.

All I saw was this:

‘Carbonated water, fruit extract…’

And some other chemical-sounding substances.

Hence, now I am pretty sure that I am allergic to some kinda fruit.

On the topic of alcohol, I have to relate my first drunk experience.

I went to Mambo on Wednesday, and my friend ordered eight jugs for the five of us. Two of these jugs were Long Island Iced Tea, and I finished about half of it before realizing that.

After that Long Island incident, I finished an entire jug of vodka redbull. Within 15 minutes, the world felt wobbly. Nevertheless, I was really happy.

Anyway, I did not notice I was drunk. Not until I saw some transsexuals.

I remember thinking ‘Damn those trannies are hot! I would like to bring one home and show Mum!’

That was the moment when it occurred to me that I might have had too much alcohol.

Anyway, I was really drunk (and very happy too). In my drunken state, I had a really weird conversation with this stranger at an ATM. It went like this –

Smoker Girl: Hey you got a light?
My friend: Nah we don’t smoke.
Smoker Girl: Oh okay.
Me: (pointing to my friend) He doesn’t smoke, he doesn’t drink, HAHAHA.
Smoker Girl: haha.
Me: (With both hands up in the air) BUT HE HAS LONG HAIR!

It was surreal.

Oh by the way, I have to tell you guys about this great movie I watched yesterday.

It is a movie about this group of talking vehicles who tries to save the world. This movie is called ‘Transformers’, and is written by the guy who wrote ‘X-Men’, directed by the guy who directed ‘Pearl Harbor’ and produced by the guy who brought us ‘Jurassic Park’.

Pretty indie stuff, I suppose.

Anyway, the movie was entertaining and enjoyable. If you don’t get what those two words mean, here are some pictures for you:

Don’t like women? Well, these guys are in the movie too:

Just kidding.

Without giving too much away, the movie had an ending where the good triumphed over evil and the boy got the girl.

Isn't it just heartening to see movies try to do things differently?

About a cough

2007-06-17T01:14:00.000+08:00

I have more or less cleared up all those Threadless tees, and my shipping business has reached a cul-de-sac.

Hence, for the past few days, I have been indulging in my favourite hobby – sitting perfectly still.

Nevertheless, I managed to discover something new about myself. It is quite startling because I have known myself for twenty years, and I was sure that it is about time I stop all the surprises.

Not anymore.

I discovered yesterday that I may well be one of the biggest hypochondriacs in Singapore.

Yesterday, I was supposed to meet a few of my friends at Khatib for supper at 1030pm. As usual, I was late. I only left home at about 1025pm. I wasn’t late on purpose, but I never made an effort to be punctual too.

Anyway.

While I was walking towards Sembawang MRT station, I started coughing. It started as a choked-chuckle kind of thing, and gradually escalated into a full-blown tear-inducing cough.

It was terrible.

My brain, being the incredible organ that it is, could not stop functioning even though I was coughing full-time. I wondered about the reasons for the cough.

None of them was any good.

One reason I came up with blamed my surroundings. I live near the Senoko incineration plant and Sembawang Shipyard and it gets really dusty. How dusty can it get? Well, for example, if I stop moving and stay completely still for half an hour, there will be a layer of soot and dust all over me.

Nah, I’m just kidding.

Anyway, back to the cough. I thought I had swallowed a genetically mutated dust mite or something, and I started having panic attacks.

I speculated that this genetically mutated dust mite might be able to clone itself and I might have a dust mite colony within me in seven weeks or something. I worried that I would have to eat dust in order to sustain this colony.

I don’t like the taste of dust very much.

I tried to calm myself down, despite the panic attacks and the incessant cough. I told myself that it might not be that bad, and that it could just be a case of tuberculosis.

And then my panic attacks got worse.

I remembered reading about a guy called Andrew Speaker. Basically, Andrew contracted drug-resistant tuberculosis, and then proceeded to fly around the world with it.

I wondered if he came to

Singapore

, and if the tuberculosis is as drug-resistant as it sounds.

Luckily for me and my lung, the coughing stopped just as I reached Sembawang MRT station. It was the toughest and longest 10 minutes in my life.

However, I learnt an invaluable lesson in life – walking makes me cough.

A few snippets from my otherwise eventful life.

2007-06-09T19:29:00.000+08:00

I have been extremely busy these days.

No, really.

One of the reasons is because of the two big boxes that arrived at my door on Wednesday.

Not too long ago, I conducted a mass order from Threadless.com. I don’t know if you’ve heard of that website before, but I think it’s a pretty popular place where people can pick up some tees.

So anyway, the tees finally arrived, all 137 of them. Even though I initially capped the order at 40 tees, everyone I advertised to went absolutely bonkers and my email soon got flooded. Being the magnanimous person that I am, I could not tell them ‘Nah, the order’s closed because I’m a lazy bastard who only wants to handle 40 shirts’.

And now, I have 137 tees sitting in my living room, waiting to be sorted and packed.

On the very day that the tees arrived, I also decided to start my own little shipping business.

If you click here, you will see how it works.

Basically, I can, and will, ship whatever you want from Japan back to Singapore. I know it is not an entirely novel idea, and I know that I have a huge-ass competitor in the form of vPost Japan, but I also happen to know how vPost Japan works and how much cheaper my service is.

vPost Japan uses the item’s volumetric weight (which is higher) to calculate shipping, while I use the item’s actual weight (much lower). To spare you from all of the technicalities of the logistics business, I’ll sum it up into one short simple sentence: vPost Japan stinks, I rock.

However, starting this business also means that I will be very busy. Especially when 137 tees arrive on my doorstep on the same day. Therefore, I have dozens of email enquiries in my inbox, two bank accounts to check all the time, and a few advertisements to plug, all at the same time.

On another note, Paris Hilton is going to jail. Again.

Even though she was sentenced to a 45-day stay, she left the prison after three days. I don’t know about you guys, but I think it’s a little bit unfair.

The exact reason is unclear, but the official stand was that it was for medical reasons. I also heard some rumours through the grapevine about the exact medical reason.

Apparently, Paris developed a severe, stress-induced herpes outbreak. I’m not trying to shock you people, but it was said that the blisters had spread to her anus and had taken on abscess-like features.

Now that’s hot!

Anyway, her ass (and the blisters) was hauled back to court yesterday and the judge ruled out the sheriff’s decision. He also stated that Paris will serve her entire 45-day sentence in prison.

I may be exaggerating a little, but I think the judge, Michael Sauer, could be the new Captain America.

It also seems that Paris is not adapting well to prison life this time, because unlike the Hilton Hotels, she doesn’t get to keep her own keys.

Terrible isn’t it?

Well, to uplift the mood of this entry, I have decided to post a picture of the pregnant Salma Hayek.

Ladies and gentlemen, we may be staring at the solution to Third World hunger. I am not trying to sound like a douchebag, but check out those boobs!

Now that I got that out of my system, I have a little plugging to do.

Yesterday, I decided that my iPod’s stock earphones just couldn’t cut it, and sauntered down to Adelphi.

Why Adelphi?

Well, I have heard a lot of good stuff about this place called Jaben, so I decided to check it out.

When I arrived, I was confused. There were tonnes of people there, just sitting around the shop, chatting to one another. I walked into the shop, and people were still sitting there, chatting to one another.

It is really confusing when you walk into a shop and people just sit around and talk. What made it worse was that nobody was wearing a uniform and I could not approach anyone without offending them.

So I stood there, feeling like an idiot. Then I mustered up my courage and talked to a friendly-looking uncle, telling him that I was new there.

He immediately brought me out of the shop and announced to everyone, ‘He’s new here’; asked me to grab some food and just hang out.

How cool is that? I mean, I walk into the shop expecting to fend off some hard-selling, but instead, I got some food and lots of warm hospitality.

Then I chilled there for an hour or so, listening to other audiophiles talk about their stuff. Most of the time, I don’t really get what they’re saying, but I could see that they really know their stuff.

Anyway, I got my earphones, the MylarThrees, for $65. It is an awesome deal, I tell you. The friendly-looking uncle, Uncle Wilson, allowed me to test them out for as long as I wanted to. There was not an ounce of pressure on me to buy them.

When I finally bought them, he gave me a headphone stand worth $28 and a timbuk2 pouch worth $15. Technically, I only paid $22 for the awesome earphones.

Now I’m not trying to over-glorify Jaben’s, but I think paying $65 for a pair of earphones, a headphone stand, a timbuk2 pouch, some Bailey’s and some good food is quite a good deal.

I’ve added a link to their blog, so do check them out if you need any audio equipment.

This is a post from the broken-hearted.

2007-06-04T22:36:00.000+08:00

It’s almost two weeks since I last updated my blog. In that seemingly-short span of time, a number of tragedies have struck me and the world (in order of relevance).

I tossed and turned in bed last night, and simply could not fall asleep because today was the Big Day.

The day when Paris Hilton is gonna be jailed.

This is probably one of the biggest days ever in Hollywood, simply because one of Hollywood’s brightest young starlets is going to jail.

Paris Hilton, a multi-talented star who has managed to establish herself across the music industry, movie industry, modeling industry, television industry, adult industry and within the pants of many random men, is going to the prison.

If you haven’t heard, Paris was originally jailed for 45 days. However due to the congested nature of the prisons in America (I wonder why), she will only be inside the slammer for 23 days.

That is still too long for me.

All she did was to drive a Bentley at 70mph on a 35mph road, during a period when her license was suspended. And why was her license suspended? Well, she only drove under the influence of alcohol, no biggie. It is not as if she might kill someone in a road-rage incident fueled by alcohol.

As of today, Paris has reported to jail. I am worried sick. I heard a lot of rumours regarding her upcoming stint in prison, and I must assure you, they are extremely disturbing.

One of these, I heard, was that the prison wardens have replaced the normal grey bars of her cell with phallic-looking bars. I am losing sleep over this because Paris might just choke on these specially-designed bars.

It is in times like these that I wonder about the justice, or lack thereof, in this world. I mean, here we are, sending a perfect lady who welcomes everyone with open limbs to the prison, while a grotesque monster like Rosie O’Donnell is still out there, scheming to hog all the nuggets in the world.

I rest my case.

The next tragedy may be a little bit more earth-shaking. Tough to believe, but I think it just might be true.

My colleagues and friends actually think that I may be a woman.

All right, calm down. Especially all you guys going ‘HURRAY!’

Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m still a guy.

Just because I like to drink apple martinis, gin tonics, vodka ribenas, and pina colada; don’t really care about boobs; prefer cats to dogs; fuss about my hair all the time; start whining when I walk for more than five minutes; don’t mind fighting with my teeth and nails if necessary; am afraid of snails; am undecisive; have a pink handkerchief; love a bed-sheet adorned with pictures of toy trains and cars; and hate to sweat, doesn’t mean that I may be a woman inside right?

I hope all you readers acknowledge that my colleagues have erred in their judgment. I really hope that they are wrong, because I’m only 20, and I’m still a little too young for an identity crisis.

If you really agree with my colleagues and friends, I might get really depressed and start binging.

Actually, typing this entry has already caused tears to well up in my eyes. I guess I shall retire to my bed (with the toy-trains-and-cars bed-sheet), and cry myself to sleep in this lonely, lonely night…

Of bugs and festivals

2007-05-24T21:47:00.001+08:00

I’m not sure if you’ve heard of this movie called Spiderman 3, but many people have told me that this movie is the best thing since sliced bread. I really appreciate sliced bread, and decided to watch this movie, because I could not convince myself that this could be THE movie that is better than sliced bread.

Basically, the movie is about self-sacrifice, and the importance of friends.

It stars Spiderman,

Kirsten Dunst,

and another guy.

In this installment of the franchise, Spiderman is trying his hardest to get rid of Kirsten’s character because she is downright ugly.

In an ‘eureka!’ moment, he smears goo all over himself and fools her into thinking that he is actually another guy. To top it up, Spiderman even does a little bad dancing to weird jazz music, just in case Kirsten refuses to leave him.

Broken-hearted, Kirsten meets up with Spiderman’s good friend, the other guy (known in some circles as Harry Osborn). Kirsten sneaks into that guy’s kitchen and tries to make scrambled eggs, inadvertently causing a mess in his kitchen.

Spiderman finds out about that guy’s predicament and became very guilty. Even though he hated Kirsten, it was never his wish to let another man live with her ugliness. In a monumental moment at a church complete with grand organ music, he scrapes off the goo and decides to woo Kirsten back.

Kirsten abandons Harry and hooks up with Spiderman once again. Harry is extremely touched by Spiderman’s self-sacrifice and decides to join Spiderman in the superhero business.

But alas! Harry just could not cut it as a superhero and he dies when he jumped straight into some sharp thingamajig.

Everybody else, however, lived happily ever after. At least until Spiderman 4 comes along and Spiderman realises once again, that Kirsten is just too ugly.

This movie, although creative, is definitely not in the same league as sliced bread. Nonetheless, I have to give Kirsten Dunst credit. This movie would have never worked without her, and her lack of looks:

On another note, National Day is coming!

Basically, National Day, for the uninformed, is Singapore’s version of Independence Day, with a lot less fireworks and tonnes of people with synchronised bad dance moves.

Anyway, since they have been demolishing the Kallang Stadium for the past century, this year’s re-run of last year’s show will be held at Marina Bay instead.

On two concrete slabs.

Apparently, these slabs are fitted with an internal drainage system, cabling structures and lightning conductors.

Maybe I lost my attention somewhere, but I have this sneaky suspicion that nobody said anything about precautions against the platform actually collapsing.

This year’s National Day Re-run might actually be dangerous. Be careful folks, if you happen to win any tickets, sell them on Yahoo Auctions! It can save your life!

Anyway, to the important stuff.

I got a new haircut again!

However, I am not entirely happy with it.

An ex-colleague of mine saw it and said that it’s ‘cute’.

Look people, it is not cute. In fact, I am never cute. I am cool and hip. That’s right, kids, cool and hip.

I’m so cool my mum stores food inside me sometimes; and I’m so hip I can’t see past my pelvis.

Definitely not cute.

A few tips for the kids

2007-05-13T02:53:00.000+08:00

I can’t really sleep tonight, so I guess the best thing to do is to type something and hopefully fall asleep halfway through.

I recently realised that I am now 20, and is technically one-third of the way towards my expiry date. I also realised that in my entire life so far, I have never really given anyone advice. Hence, I have decided to do some good to society and post some tips for the kids on my blog.

Why my blog? Well, first and foremost, my blog is a true blue family-oriented read.

I am serious. The blog address contains the word ‘love’ and every page is accompanied by a red-and-black rainbow that looks like artwork from a kindergarten. Doesn’t that make you just wanna hug someone?

Furthermore, the content is totally geared towards family-reading. Just check out my entries about milk, studies, health issues, and even sexual harassment at the workplace! There’s something for everyone here.

Hence, without further ado, I bring to you HongXiang’s Tips for the Kids©!

1) Do not trust your teachers.

I am speaking from experience.

During my primary school days, I didn't do my homework much. My teachers used to tell me that if I don’t do my homework, I will end up in EM3 and not be able to make it to Anderson Sec.

I stayed in EM1 and qualified for Anderson Sec.

During my secondary school days, I got smarter and started copying homework, instead of just doing them. My teachers said that they will find the ones who are copying, and make sure they get expelled.

They never found out about me, and I stayed in Anderson Sec for four years before graduating with a few As.

During my poly days, I skipped school regularly. My lecturers (yep, even teachers get upgrades!) said that if I continue to cut classes, I won’t be able to finish in three years.

I thought, ‘What the heck?’, and continued skipping classes. I graduated within three years.

As you can see, teachers are usually not very good at predicting the future. Therefore, never believe a teacher when they tell you ‘you will never make it’.

Really, at the end of it all, we are beautiful, no matter what they say.

2) NS is really bad

Once again, I am speaking from experience.

I have been enlisted for about six months now, and here’s a short summary of how it has been so far:

The first month was really bad.

The second month got worse.

The third month was the worst.

And then it sort of went into a decline after that.

However, as tragic as NS may seem, it is good to motivate yourself during the two year stint. One good way, as I found, is to tell yourself that NS is actually a devious scheme concocted by the wrinkled things at AWARE.

No, really. ALL guys have to serve two years, while the women are free to improve themselves and find real jobs. NS is, essentially, a scheme to give women a headstart in life.

I look around at the womenfolk in my office, and truly, they just reaffirm the fact that most women need this headstart desperately.

3) Obey the Law

The law is meant to protect all the rich people in the world, and poor folks like us should respect it all the time.

If you don’t, however, the police will come and catch you. They will ask you several thought-provoking questions, and then provide you with free food and lodging.

I guess the best way to deter crime is free food and lodging.

And no, I’m not speaking from experience on this one.

4) Make your dreams come true

Seriously though, we all ought to have dreams, and strive to make them reality.

This, however, does not apply to everyone.

For example, I am a good example of a person who should not make his/her dreams come true.

One of my most vivid dreams had me stuck inside a hash brown. Just imagine the possible health problems this may cause if it really took place.

Recently, I also dreamt that I was a Jewish robber who went around robbing my friends in a miniature Jeep. This, I think, may cause some friction between these friends and myself.

As you can see, this tip is not for everybody. If you find that making your dreams come true may conflict with Tip #3, STOP.

That’s all!

It doesn’t matter if you’re a kid physically, mentally, unfortunately or supposedly, all you have to do is to obey the four tips with maniacal fervor, and you will be just fine.

At least till you hit 20.

This post is about boobs

2007-05-03T07:59:00.000+08:00

Got your attention, haven’t I?

Bloody perverts.

However, this post came about after I told a colleague that Keira Knightley is within the top few of FHM’s Annual 100 Sexiest Women in the World poll.

She came in 12^th, even though some reports claimed that she was top. The sexiest woman is apparently Jessica Alba.

Personally, I think that the voters are blind. I would go for Keira Knightley anytime, any day of the week. Just look and compare for yourself.

Here's Keira, looking smoldering as usual.

And here's Jessica, who looks like a tranny.

So, I told my colleague that Keira Knightley was amongst the top rankers for this year, and she was really surprised. Her first reaction was to say that ‘Keira Knightley doesn’t even have boobs!’, or something to that effect.

I could not find something to retort her with, because I think she was actually telling the truth.

However, I decided to take boobs really seriously. I fasted by steering clear of dairy products and spent 2 hours everyday in office musing about boobs. And my hard (no pun intended) work has paid off gloriously.

I arrived at the conclusion that boobs are overrated. Seriously.

Just look:

…

…

Where was I?

Overrated, right. Yes, they are overrated.

This is because they are ubiquitous. Every other person in the world has a pair. Your mum has a pair, your granny has a pair, your sister has a pair, that butch in St Nicholas has a pair, heck, even my friend Amos has a pair!

So what’s the big deal with boobs?

They are just fats with a nipple on it. You see your thigh? Graft a nipple on it, and voila! Here’s a boob-above-the-knee. Who knows? One day, some scientist might even invent a removable nipple, and people can put it on their butts.

Put the nipples on, and you get two boobs. Take them off, and you get a butt. Makes things easier, doesn’t it?

And, as I mentioned earlier, boobs are everywhere. There are six billion people in the world, and half of it is made up of women. That means there are approximately three billion pairs of boobs to go around. I figured that it is more than enough, even if all the women turned lesbian overnight.

This is because there are three billion pairs of boobs. That means that there are six billion individual boobs scattered all over the world. Just enough for everyone. Isn’t that sweet?

If you are confused by all these statistical data, just look at this picture again:

…

…

Uh, I think I need to go.

about a weekend

2007-04-30T10:12:00.000+08:00

I would love to say that I spent the weekend boozing around in pubs, waking up in bed with a stranger and having a tattoo on my buttcheek that says 'I love Mike'.

But I can't.

The truth is, I spent my weekend walking around at home during the day and whimpering in bed alone at night.

Other than these two hobbies of mine, I also managed to tidy my wardrobe, talk to my neighbour and watch a few chick-lit movies.

Shut up about the chick-lit films already.

The reason why I, an accomplished procrastinator, decided to clean up my wardrobe was simple - I couldn't find my socks. I found all kinds of incomplete socks though: socks without heels; socks without toes; and socks without a partner.

That happened on Tuesday, and I resolved to clear up the mess immediately.

Then, I waited till Saturday to do it.

Anyhow, I managed to tidy up the wardrobe and found that I had three bags of unwanted clothes, shorts and socks.

Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full!

So, I had three bags of old clothes which I wanted to get rid off. They were really old and some of the white shirts have turned yellow. Basically, they were so bad that I don't even think Salvation Army would take them in.

Just as I was pondering about how to get rid of the clothes, the Bangala who sweeps my corridor sweeps by. I had an idea, and beckoned him over.

I offered him the three bags of clothes and he was really grateful. I mean, really, grateful. Really. Grateful.

So now, the Bangala who sweeps my floor dresses the way I used to, and smiles at me all the time.

I also forgot to mention that one of the shirts inside the bag has the words 'Angry, Young and Poor' emblazoned across the front in huge, jagged letters. Pretty nifty.

On another note, I finally got to interact with my neighbour. I moved in to my current place about 5 years ago, and has never talked to them at all. Yesterday, however, the man came over to borrow some lemons.

I happened to have a few lemons left over from a BBQ which took place in early March. Since they've been untouched for over a month, I decided that I would never touch them and gave all of them to the man. I don't think they're expired though, since they've been sour since day one.

Anyway, I don't expect the man to return me anything. Ever had one of those neighbours who borrow things for so long, you have to borrow them back? Ya, he looked like that sort.

Finally, I watched two chick-lit movies over the weekend as well. I caught Chicago and Notting Hill. I know, I know. I've always been a few years slower than anyone else.

I really really respect the crew of Chicago, and agree fully that they deserve the Oscar for Best Picture.

I mean, seriously.

They actually managed to make Renee Zellweger look good!

Just for that fact alone, they deserve an Oscar. I am no make-up specialist, but even I would know that turning Renee 'The Blob' Zellweger into a vaudeville star would be extremely difficult.

Oh wait! There's something else that happened over the weekend, and it was pretty exciting.

MY BED BROKE!

And that's all I'm gonna tell you about that.

I'm a sellout

2007-04-27T07:50:00.000+08:00

Hatta, my biggest fan with a staggering record of two posts on my tag board, commented on my previous piece that I ‘should write a book’.

I considered his suggestion, dwelled over it for a few minutes, and decided that it simply wasn’t gonna work.

Apart from the never-ending and aptly titled ‘Russell Lee’s Almost Complete Collection of True Singapore Ghost Stories (Volumes One to Seven Million)’, there are simply no other successes in the local publishing industry.

Plus, I actually had trouble coming up with a name for my would-be book.

First, I thought of competing with Russell Lee for the ‘Longest Book Title’ award. I wanted to call my book ‘Ye HongXiang’s Almost Complete Collection of True Singapore Life Stories’. And then, just to up the ante, I will include the words (paperback edition) and (based on a true story).

The full title would read ‘Ye HongXiang’s Almost Complete Collection of True Singapore Life Stories (paperback edition) (based on a true story)’. Isn’t that awesome?

The book will be choke-full of stories about how life screwed me, just like how Russell Lee’s book was all about how ghosts screwed people. Literally. I once read a story in Russell Lee’s book about a man having sex with a ghost. The man even claimed that the ghost took away a lot of his ‘vital energy’.

I guess the Japanese heard that story and decided to put words into action. Check it out here.

Then I thought of calling my book ‘Memoirs of Ye HongXiang’. It sounded as passé as it looked and I gave it up almost immediately. I mean, come on, how can I expect to compete with ‘Memoirs of Lee Kuan Yew’?! He’s the freakin' Overlord of Singapore man!

In addition, there is another famous book called ‘Memoirs of a Geisha’. I’m not sure if you’ve heard of it, but it is basically about how prostitutes in Japan used to put on heavy make-up, play some weird wayang music, and refuse to let their customers touch them. Essentially the same story as ‘Memoirs of Lee Kuan Yew’, with a little bit more make-up.

With such insurmountable difficulties presenting themselves, I decided to take the easy way out and continue posting on my blog. This effectively makes me an online writer-cum-publisher, and that is way cooler than Russell Lee and his team of ghost writers.

Damn, this is the second consecutive post in which I digressed. I was supposed to talk about how much of a sellout I am, wasn’t I?

If you noticed, I now have Google’s advertisements right at the bottom of my blog. In order to prevent it from obstructing my blog, I decided to place it right at the bottom, even lower than the link for Hatta’s blog. That’s how unimportant it is.

Even though I say this, I would really appreciate it if you people could click on the ads once in a while, just to let me earn a few cents. Those few cents could go a long way into helping me with paying for something. I’m not sure what this something is, but I assure you, I’ll be pretty damn sure when the money comes.

However, if you really hate those ads, just voice it out to me via email. Just drop me an email with a subject that says ‘I HATE ADS’ and I will send you a step-by-step guide on how to block them. I am THAT cool. Take it from me, kids; always keep that indie streak of yours.

Don’t get me wrong, I still hate ads. I get at least a few everyday, screaming titles like ‘SEXUALLY EXPLICIT’, ‘ENLARGE YOUR PENIS’ and “RESURFACE YOUR KITCHEN’. I have this sneaky feeling that all three ads are related because the one about enlarging my penis always comes after the one about sexually explicit stuff. ‘RESURFACE YOUR KITCHEN’ always follows the other two, and never states what I should resurface my kitchen with. Pretty suggestive and gross, I would say.

Now that you understand me, please scroll down (that’s right, even lower than Hatta’s blog link) and click on those ads.

The truth about my admission to Mass Comm

2007-04-19T08:09:00.000+08:00

The polytechnic academic year, 07/08, has recently started. Just like any other years, tonnes of secondary school leavers, especially the females, flock towards media-related Diplomas like the one I happen to have.

Here’s the often-heard line females tend to say:

‘You know, I really wanna go to, like, Mass Comm! I think this course is, um, made for me or something, you know? It’s like I was born for this! I belong to the big time; I’m like, the Next Big Thing!’

And so on.

Guys? Well…

Guy A: ‘Dudes, check out that course! It’s filled with girls!’

Guy B, Guy C and Guy D, in unison: ‘AWESOME!’

So what do we have here? A mixture of females who talk like porn stars and males who slap each other on their backs and go ‘AWESOME’ at every other thing.

In the days of yore… Oh wait, that phrase, ‘days of yore’, just made me sound really sophisticated, didn’t it?

It makes me feel like I am one of those old people who sit in a large armchair by a fireplace, sipping tea and beginning all my sentences with ‘One might say…’

Anyhow, in the days of yore, candidates had to go through a written test and an interview to get a shot at enrolling in this prestigious course. In order to get more than a shot, you will have to actually pass both the test and the interview. This was done to weed out inferior students, and fill up seats at the lecture halls of Ngee Ann Polytechnic’s Business Faculty.

Here’s the clincher: They removed the test and interview.

Henceforth, getting into Mass Comm is like getting into Paris Hilton.

This was generally considered a very bad decision, and it made a lot of people unhappy. Not that it would have mattered, but one of the unhappy people was me.

Oh wait, I digress. This was supposed to be a post about my admission eh?

Legend has it that I aced the interview by being extremely confident and witty. It has also been said that I navigated all the questions the three interviewers threw at me with much style and aplomb. The written test? I didn’t even have to attend it.

However, I am here to squash these rumours once and for all. I did not ace the interview, and I was neither confident nor witty. I even handed up a blank script for my written test. So what really happened?

On the date of the written test, I wrote my name on the script. An invigilator happened to pass by and saw my name. He took my script immediately, bowed, and invited me for a tea-sipping session by a fireplace.

Days later, I found out that I passed the test and will be going for the interview.

I thought nothing about the previous encounter and went for the interview. I was out of the interview room within an exchange of seven sentences.

Here’s how it went:

Interviewer A, extremely surprised: ‘Are you…’
Me: ‘Yes, I’m here for the inter…’
Interviewer B: ‘Are you HongXiang?’
Me: ‘Yes.’
Interviewer C: ‘The HongXiang?’
Me: ‘Actually, it’s Ye HongXiang.’
Interviewers A, B and C: ‘Can we have your autograph?’

I signed on various parts of the interviewers, left the room, and got accepted.

And that, is the true story.

The first ever review on this blog.

2007-03-26T08:02:00.000+08:00

Today, I am going to review something so cheap and ubiquitous that nobody ever takes a second glance at it.

Despite its uninspiring appearance, this particular item has arguably ended one of the most-debated mystery ever – the existence of God. The very existence of this item has mystified many skeptics and halted them in their quest for proof of the non-existence of God.

This relic is perhaps even holier than the Shroud of Turin, Veil of Veronica and Sudarium of Oviedo combined. Behold, the Box of Tissues!

Just like the three abovementioned (lesser) relics, the Box of Tissues can be used to wipe sweat, blood, or when used in big quantities, wrap a recently-crucified body. Hence, it is certainly not an exaggeration when I claim that the Box of Tissues is a modern manifestation of the prehistoric relics.

For the final, clinching proof that God really does exist, the Box of Tissues one-ups the other three relics by producing a miracle every time it is used. Every single time.

If there is no God, who in the world pops up the next tissue?

Now that we’ve established just how holy the Box of Tissues is, we shall examine why it is probably the most powerful tool to remind us of the omnipresence of God.

Even though nobody ever thinks about the Box of Tissues constantly, it is perpetually on the back of our mind. Whenever someone pukes on our couch, we don’t think Chicken-in-a-Biscuit, we think Tissues-in-a-Box. Whenever a baby drools, we don’t think Soup-in-a-Can, we think Tissues-in-a-Box. Point taken? Good.

Without further ado, we shall proceed to the review proper!

The Aesthetics

What I have here is an extremely edgy and contemporary Box of Tissues. Unlike most other Boxes of Tissues which simply state a Western last name like Scotts or Kleenex, the one I have actually state Collectables.

Hence, just like the name suggests, I have decided to collect them.

Though, I have to admit, I sometimes feel like they all look the same.

Toughness

A relic has to be really tough to withstand the test of time. Hence, I have decided to put the Box of Tissues to my own patented Relic-Stretch Test™.

Apprehensively, I stretched the Box of Tissues. I was initially afraid that the Test might be too much for the Box but I was wrong. The Box of Tissues turned into a funny shape, but it stayed intact.

Next up, the innards. I pulled out a piece of tissue (lo and behold, the next one pops up!), and proceeded to stretch it.

It endured the first few stretches, and then it happened.

I TORE A RELIC APART.

Now please excuse me while I go to bed and have a heart attack.

my visit to the doctor's.

2007-03-14T07:48:00.000+08:00

On Monday, I woke up and felt like going to work. I'm serious! I actually thought that I should just turn up at the office and go through the motions.

Then I went to the toilet, coughed, and threw up a mouthful of blood.

I couldn't believe it and tried again. So I made myself cough, and then I threw up another mouthful of blood.

What a great way to start the day.

On one of the rare days when I actually feel like working, I puke blood. I guess I am not the working type of person.

So I had to go to the doctor's. I really hate going to the doctor's, and today's trip there will reinforce my hatred.

Why do I hate going to the doctor's?

Well, because other than the fact that I have Marfan's Syndrome, scoliosis, a windpipe that bleeds when I think of work, a chronic infatuation with the word 'dodgy' and a compulsive tendency to indulge in procrastination, I am really your average healthy guy.

(My automatic spell-check underlined the word 'dodgy' and suggested 'doggy' instead. I think I prefer the former.)

Anyhow, I went to the polyclinic and got myself registered. The only reason I like a polyclinic is because it is totally free. Due to my National Service status, I am entitled to free health care at all government hospitals and polyclinics. Sounds good, but I still don't believe it's a fair trade for two years of my life.

I got a queue number and an appointment card from the pre-registration booth and waited patiently for the number to appear on the screens. The screens read 19-something-something. My queue ticket said 2111. I glanced around and counted only about 50 others. I think the other 150 must be waiting in some other cool place and forgot about me. They never invite me to cool places.

I waited and waited till my number finally appeared. I trudged up to the counter and the counter-lady asked for my appointment card. I gave her the one I just got from the pre-registration booth. She looked at it, keyed in my NRIC number and glared at me.

'Next time, please remember to bring your own appointment card. It's not your first time here.'

Thanks for reminding me that I'm a regular at the polyclinic, but it's not exactly my fault that your pre-registration people shoved a new appointment card into my hand before I could say 'I already have one', right?

So I tried to bring the matter up to her, but she gave me a piece of paper that stated my doctor's room number and waved me off. I like to think that it was nothing personal.

I went to the waiting gallery and waited. What else can you do in a waiting gallery anyway? So I waited and waited. The screen above the doors informed me in a chirpy way with red LED lights that the waiting time for walk-in cases to see a doctor was '49 minutes'. I was quite comforted and settled into a chair.

Two hours later, I looked up and the same message scrolled happily across the screen.

Another fifty minutes passed by, and my number was finally called. I went into the doctor's room. The nice and friendly doctor told me that it was nothing big. She also informed me that if she vomited blood in the morning, she would freak out totally. Then, she prescribed some flu medicine. Apparently, she thinks that flu medicine will prevent me from puking blood.

She then asked if a one-day MC was fine. My brain screamed 'NOOOOOOOOO!' But all I could muster was a weak 'okay'. Wuss. Even though I am one of the most awesome guy most of the time, I can be a real wuss for some moments. Today happened to be one of my WussyTimes™.

But I think she noted some of my reluctance and offered me a two-day MC. My brain did a triple somersault and punched the air. Physically, I sat still and nodded, perhaps a bit too eagerly.

I caught the bus on my way back home. A young boy sat across me with his mum and started kicking me intermittently. I like to think that it was nothing personal.

Then he reached over to his mum's shopping bag and took out a six-pack of briefs. He flipped it around in his hands and I saw it.

Emblazoned across the crotch area of every brief was a logo of the Power Rangers. With the words 'Wild Force' underneath.

At that very moment, images of his mum in a Rita Repulsa-like costume appeared in my head. In those fleeting pictures, the mum threw a stick down into the ground and exclaimed 'Let my monster GROW!'

And that concludes my entry about my very disturbing trip to the doctor's.

The day I met Slipknot.

2007-03-09T10:32:00.000+08:00

I was so freaking bored that I decided to drop by the library last night. I got myself four books and a chance encounter with Slipknot.

Honestly.

But that is not the point.

On my way back from the library, I saw a woman walking in front of me alone. Now just in case you people think that I am a stalker, I have to inform you that I am not interested in such hobbies at all. I do not stalk anyone. (Except you, Janice.)

Stalking people is so boring. I mean, it's just following someone to their house and going back to your own home afterwards. Where's the excitement in that? (Except when I follow Janice to Block 405 Admiralty Link #07... Oh you get the point.)

Now that you people are convinced of my innocence, I shall get on with my encounter. I was a comfortable distance away from the woman, but my persistent coughing and sniffing definitely announced my presence to her.

Perhaps as an additional way of announcing my presence, my left knee starting cracking every other step.

Here comes the One Man Band.

She started glancing back and I noticed that she was wearing a Slipknot tee. I also noticed that her expression was rather worried. She might be concerned that I am stalking her. I have to admit that, at that moment, I thought she was nuts. True, she looked like a Hollywood star, but unfortunately for her, that star happened to be Queen Latifah.

Anyway, she was just being presumptuous. I mean, just because a skinny, coughing, sniffing guy with a creaky joint is behind you, it doesn't mean that he is a drug addict trying to rob you, right?

Anyway, since Slipknot made an unlikely presumption, I decided to live with it. Everytime she glanced back, I pretended to look surprised and stare at something else. This sorta assured her that someone was following her.

As all coincidences go, Slipknot lived at my block. When I stood beside her, she glanced at me again. I gave her a smile, mouthed 'Hi' and started twiddling my thumbs. She started coughing nervously.

When the lift came, I boarded it first and held the door open for her. She appeared startled in this change of order and drifted into the lift. I made a point not to press the button for my floor.

Slipknot reached her level and went out. As the doors were closing, she turned and stared at me. I smiled and mouthed 'Bye', perhaps in a little menacing manner. Because I forgot to hit the button for my floor, the lift went down. I actually thought that this made the entire scene more believable.

Hopefully, Slipknot will learn her lesson and not pre-judge sick men who happens to follow her.

(Bye Janice!)

this post is full of shit

2007-03-07T14:17:00.000+08:00

I haven't been posting much lately, simply because there hasn't been much to post about.

Everyday just seems to repeat itself.

Wake up, feel like shit.
Go to work, feel like shit.

The most exciting thing that happened to me over the past week or so was when I shat thrice this morning.

Quite explosive encounters, I must say.

Of family and friends

2007-02-27T10:19:00.000+08:00

An old poly mate of mine, Hatta, commented on my blog last night. He simply said, 'FUCKING HILARIOUS' in my comments page. I shall take it as a compliment.

Having got that out of the way, it is time for me to talk about another major irritating repetitive festival - Chinese New Year.

Legend has it that the Chinese started celebrating the New Year because they believed that the first day of the Lunar Year was the day a monster would appear and take people away from villages.

Maybe that's how all the visiting came about. Us Chinese people just wanted to make things simpler for the monster, so we started to gather our entire family at one place and sit around.

Nevertheless, we are supposed to enjoy it right? I mean, with all the New Year goodies and ang pao money getting thrown around, we unmarried and skinny people should be damn happy right?

Wrong.

It is also the day when kids get the perfect excuse to show their hidden devils. Basically, they run around the house all the time, touching things they're not supposed to and eating much more than their fair share of bak kwa. And they do all those without even taking off their socks. This, coupled with the fact that they are running all the time, fills the entire house with the smell of talcum-powdered-salted-fish.

Old people also get their fair share of fun too. Every single year, I get at least 7 comments that go 'Wow you are so tall!' followed by 'Do you like basketball?' and a mimicked bouncing action. Please, Uncles and Aunts, I have been tall for the past 8 years or so, and I absolutely hate basketball. Perhaps more importantly, please do not mimic any basketball heroes of yours. You're old already. I'm not saying that you people are useless, but maybe you should just sit on a couch and drink tea.

One other freaky thing about Chinese New Year is that you get all these weird numbers messaging you well-wishes on your mobile. You have no idea who they are, but they know you. Then you reply them really nicely by saying, 'Hey happy new year to you too! By the way, you are?' They reply with their names and exclamations of 'How can you forget me!'

The freaky part? You still don't know who they are.

Why am I so bitter about Chinese New Year? Maybe it's because my room's light fused on Chinese New Year Eve, leaving me in darkness for the next 5 or so days.

Just maybe.

My harrowing experience at the hair salon

2007-02-16T16:24:00.000+08:00

I spent my Valentine's Day with three other guys at a coffeeshop acting like Teletubbies.

I was Dipsy.

I am serious.

Now that I got the 'What did you do on Valentine's?' question out of the way, it is time for me to proceed on to describing my harrowing experience at the hair salon.

My usual hairstylist, Alvin, was extremely busy on that day, with his hands bogged down by the leaden weight of the latest fashion magazine. I did not make an appointment with him, so I had to make do with a junior stylist.

I guess that's what happens when you become a Senior, you read magazines in the name of self-improvement, while others flutter around like bees.

Anyhow, the junior stylist was quite cool, in a way. He was wearing a short-sleeved yellow floral shirt. He had bronze hair that spread out in different directions all over his head. The hair was big, seriously. Heck, he even left the first button of his shirt unbuttoned. For concision purposes, I shall call him 'Sunshine~'.

Even though Sunshine~ looked a bit too cool for the hairstyling business, he was downright serious about it. He paced around me, looking at my head at different angles. Finally, he informed me that he 'will have to cut it shorter.' I agreed with him, considering that I didn't really want any extensions on my hair.

He proceeded with the haircut. It turned out that my hair indeed became shorter, as he promised earlier. I was pleasantly surprised.

Then it took a turn for the worse.

It was time for the washing and we went to the washing area. He made me lie down and proceeded to wash my hair. He then started to massage my head with some shampoo. It was nice at first, then the strangling started.

Yep, strangling.

He started to grab my neck from behind, repeatedly. I was struggling to breath. I thought about the sign at the door and remembered clearly that it said 'Haircut (washing incl.) - $21' instead of 'Haircut (washing and strangling incl.) - $21'. I decided that I could be wrong and started to blame myself for not reading properly. Who could have missed 'strangling'?

I thought about my parents and how I've let them down. I blinked back a tear, partly due to my realisation that they have let me down on more occasions, and that I am going to die with my head in a sink.

Just as I was about to scream for help, the strangling stopped. Sunshine~ asked me to stand up and go back to the chair. I duly obliged.

He dried my hair and asked if it was nice. I thought that I now looked like Bert from Sesame Street. My neck started to hurt and I remembered the previous ordeal. I said my new hairstyle is awesome, and that the kids will love it. Sunshine~ smiled.

I am safe!

I paid up, $21 in total, and left, but not before taking a last look at the sign. I swore it said 'Haircut (wash incl.) - $21'.

I guess I got a freebie.

Oh, and by the way, Weilong was Tinky-Winky, Yang Bing was Laa-laa and Wilson was Po. Just thought that you might wanna know.

The battle of wits with Lao Kuniang

2007-02-14T08:12:00.001+08:00

Part of my struggle for survival during NS hinges on the whims of Lao Kuniang.

To give you some background, Lao Kuniang takes the same bus as me every morning. Not only that, she boards the bus at the same stop as I do. I was fairly annoyed at this fact.

However, that wasn't a valid reason to start a war with an auntie with a creaking spine. One fateful morning not so long ago, Wilson, my friend with the really big head, and I was chatting on the bus. We were just talking about trivial issues like my previous dinner when Lao Kuniang interrupted us by saying: "Can you keep quiet? I want to rest."

We were stunned. Everyone knows that Singaporeans always have a I-don't-give-a-damn attitude about others, but Lao Kuniang takes the cake. Not only did she take the cake, she even ate it. We could see it from her body size.

Anyhow, she was the epitome of the I-don't-give-a-damn attitude. She halted a highly-intellectual debate about the contents of my dinner just because she needed to rest her ailing brain. Nevertheless, big-headed Wilson and magnanimous me decided to give in and allow her some nap time. Besides, her eyebags suggested she really needed a nap.

But, like I always say, I pretend to forgive, and I never forget. This is war.

The idea of revenge first struck me on a rainy day. It was raining heavily, and it was as cold as my Mother's eyes whenever I ask her for money. Anyhow, Lao Kuniang sat in front of me on the bus. Realising the state of the weather, I managed to infer that Lao Kuniang would be feeling really cold. I remembered our little engagement earlier and decided to do something about it.

I discreetly turned all the air-con vents towards her, and turned them up to 'maximum'. Within seconds, she was sneezing. She looked around and discovered that all the air-con vents were pointing at her. She turned to me and said, "Can you turn the vents away? I am cold."

Does she own a template for her speech or what? "Can you......? I....." Duh. The war continued, though.

Just yesterday, she was late for the bus again. I boarded the bus before her and took the seat behind the driver. The driver, Mr James, looked around and asked me if Lao Kuniang was taking the bus that morning. I had no idea. However, I am an opportunist, and saw a great chance for another shot at her. I said, "Nah, she isn't taking the bus this morning."

Mr James moved off.

I closed my eyes and imagined her chasing the bus. It was in slow-mo, like all great imaginations. She laboured through her steps and it showed. Her fat body vibrated like a bowl of jelly on a sub-woofer.

It was not a pretty sight, but it was a heart-warming thought.

I was sexually harassed.

2007-01-09T18:54:00.000+08:00

Yes, I was sexually harassed. By a wrinkled old man, no less.

He did it while I was walking back to office today. That sneaky old fella sneaked up to me from behind, stuck his finger into my belt loop and said softly, "You're not wearing a belt."

My entire world came crashing down. For twenty years I was trying to live a chaste life amidst the corruption that envelops society, and now, this happens to me. The only worse thing that can happen right now is that the old man has an uniform fetish.

In my moment of folly, I actually replied him.

"I woke up late... Forgot about the belt."

He simply said:

"... Soldier."

He smiled and walked off. Perhaps sneaked off might have been a better description. Perhaps he went off in search of another target. But I was in no state of mind to think about all these possibilities. I was devastated. My worst fears came true.

An old man sneaked up on me, put his finger into my belt loop and told me about my missing belt. And he has a fetish for soldiers.

Whatever little hopes I had left were shattered. Utterly.

What made it worse is the fact that I actually woke up thinking that it will be a great day. This was due to a dream I had while sleeping. I actually dreamt that I woke up inside a giant hash brown and had to eat my way out. I succeeded and woke up feeling really satisfied at myself. Heck, I even smelled flowers, only to realise that the scent came from my lavender soap. That insignificant fact did little to dampen my spirits, however.

But now, the appearance of that wrinkled old man ruined everything. I guess I'll have to end here, and bury my head in pillows, sobbing silently for the decay of mankind.

Goodbye, cruel world.

Footnote: For your information, the old man carries an ugly red leather briefcase. If you see any old man with an ugly red leather briefcase, take care. You may wish to start by wearing a belt and steering away from wearing green.

Footnote No. 2: I was just kidding about the crying part. I am actually going to buy hash browns. That entire phrase about crying is just an avant-garde metaphor for buying hash browns.

the obligatory new year post.

2007-01-01T18:58:00.000+08:00

Even though I spent the first minutes of 2007 drinking beer and playing with hamsters at my friend's place, I managed to come up with a list of New Year resolutions that would not be too hard to achieve. Of course they have to be easy, it sucks to fail at New Year resolutions year after year, right?

1. Gain 15kg by 2008

Well, my height is about 187cm and I only weigh in at 60kg. Grossly underweight, man. It also gives me an excuse to eat more junk food.

2. Save $500 by 2008

What are you laughing at? $500 is a lot for an NSF drawing $350/month. It's times like this I feel worse off than a Bangladeshi construction worker.

3. Learn how to cook 25 dishes

Currently, I only know how to make Scrambled Eggs, Carbonara and Albondigas. Sucks. Long way off my target.

4. Tidy up my room

It's been part of my annual New Year resolutions list for 5 years straight. Still not done, though.

There you have it. My list of resolutions for 2007.

This is gonna be a long year.

smells like lavender spirit

2006-12-28T19:50:00.000+08:00

My mum bought a large pack of lavender scented soap bars for me.

Yes, I still use soap bars. In fact, I absolutely dig them. Seriously. Soap bars are just like roll-on deodorant: nobody wants to share them. I absolutely hate sharing anything, hence, that rules shower foams out. A shared soap-bar would just be too gross. Imagine, you could be rubbing your groin with the very face of the soap your mum or sis just wiped their armpits with. Or even worse, their nether regions.

Having explained my passion for alkaline fat bars, I would like to state my distaste for smelling like an AirWick, or in layman terms, smelling of lavender.

Come on, I'm a man. I should smell manly, husky, sweaty even, but definitely not like a flower!

My Mum saw my expression when I first laid eyes on that unholy package. It was nothing short of a grimace.

"Is anything wrong?"

Yes, a million and one. Probably starting with the trivial matter of gay-smelling soap.

"No Mum, nothing's wrong. Just appreciating the soap you got for me. Thanks Mum, you're one of the greatest Mums I've ever got."

She chuckled, but paused after a while. She must have landed mentally on my second sentence.

Sorry Dad, I didn't mean to get you into trouble.

while my brolly gently weeps

2006-12-23T13:32:00.000+08:00

It's been pouring the last few days and my nice kinky little floral umbrella has been overworked.

At the same time, though, I'm really happy with the weather. Seriously. For example, it gives me a valid excuse not to jog. I have this friend, Wilson, who has a really big head and always wants me to jog.

Wilson: Today's Thursday, let's jog.
Me: It's raining.
Wilson: If it stops, let's jog.
Me: The track will be slippery.
Wilson: Just be careful, and you won't slip so easily.
Me: Oh well, okay, let's jog. It's a nice weather to just slack to, though.
Wilson: ... True.

Escaped from jogging.

Last Tuesday, however, the weather gave me another nice present. Wilson woke up late, as usual, and had to take half a day off work. Must be having trouble lifting that head of his.

Anyhow, I took my usual transport, Mr James' Bus, and went to MINDEF as usual. It was pouring like crazy, and I juggled between using my floral umbrella inside my bag, or just running into office through the rain. I couldn't imagine myself running around a Ministry holding a floral umbrella, so I had to settle for the latter.

So when we arrived at MINDEF, I was pretty set to just hold my hands above my head and try to shield the rain. As I walked towards the first uncovered area, I began to reach inside my thick, armyman spirit and mentally said, "Okay, here go-"

"Do you have an umbrella?"

What?

It took me a while to gather my senses. This cute girl was asking me if I had an umbrella, while holding her own in her hand. Somehow, it wouldn't be very nice if I said "Ya, I actually do. It's just a little floral and I don't wanna use it here."

So I said no. She offered to share her umbrella with me, and I gracefully accepted her kind offer. What the heck do you say to a cute girl offering to share an umbrella with you, anyway? "Nah, I'd prefer to be caught in the rain than share an umbrella with you!"?

I even offered to carry the umbrella, cause she's shorter than me. Luckily for me, the umbrella was small and she kinda leaned on my arm in order to get shelter. Smelled nice.

There you have it, the next time I see her, I could open my mouth and talk to her much easily. I should have more opportunities, since she takes Mr James' Bus as well.

Me: Hey, thanks for the umbrella the other day. You smelled nice.
Cute: Oh, you're welco- What?!
Me: Uh... The umbrella was kinda small, so...
Cute: ...
Me: ...

Maybe I shouldn't.

2006-12-05T22:29:00.000+08:00

Oldplay

Young@Heart sing 'Fix You' by Coldplay

Awesome song, awesome performance.

Gone fishin'

2006-11-26T01:40:00.000+08:00

Seriously.

I'm gonna pick up fishing as a hobby. Yep, you heard me right.

This is not a sudden interest, by the way. I was interested in fishing since my secondary school years. But, just as I was about to learn how to fish, I read an article in WanBao during 2002 which really made me scared of the activity.

A boy tried to cast a line and the hook kena his ear!

That cast a huge shadow over me. People who know me will know this - I have big ears. Hence, thanks to my bigger ears, I have a higher chance of getting the hook attaching itself to my ear, instead of hooking onto a fish. Learning probability during Sec 4 confirmed my suspicion - big ears equals big chance.

But! With greater age, comes greater intelligence. I have since found out that as long as I buy a damn big rod, and use a damn long line, and use a damn small hook, I'll cut the probability of getting an ear piercing by three times. Yep, that's right. Three. Big rod + long line + small hook = 3. Simple arithmetic.

Hence, I shall start to fish next weekend. As a matter-of-fact, I have already started practising. On my PC. Well, we usually start with the theory part first, right?

Check out my first catch:

For the uninformed, the Chinese wordings say that the species of the fish I caught is Oo-Si-Ban. I think it means Osbourne fish. I've heard that these Osbournes eat bats. Scary. No wonder the fish's tail turned blue. Must be sick from all the germs.

I had a dream.

2006-11-13T20:40:00.000+08:00

It's been a long time since I last posted. Are you, my fans, doing well?

I bet you guys are deprived. It must have been a long, cold and bitter two years for you people. Hence, wait no longer! HongXiang is back in the blogging business, and you lucky fans are in for a treat! I'll be allowing you guys little glimpses into my magnificent life, and leave you people gasping for air in front of your PC monitors. I can just imagine you losers staring at your PC monitor, reading my blog, and turning a whiter shade of pale.

First things first, an announcement to make. I WILL NO LONGER CURSE NOR SWEAR. EVER.*

Obviously, it is a change for the better, and I would like to explain it as a move to portray myself as a refined and well-mannered gentleman. Which I am, actually. The previously uncouth me was just an act, in order to allow my mixing with the masses at grassroots level.

But, those are just diplomatically-correct crap. The REAL reason is this - I had a dream last night, a terrible nightmare. I dreamt I had a baby. She was pretty cute for an infant, but that's not the point.

The point is, the first words she uttered were not 'Mama' or 'Papa'. Instead, it was a string of vulgarities so fluent that even I would be ~~proud~~ ashamed of. Freaky, man.

Do you want your kid to be like that?

Therefore, I shall stop swearing and cursing, as of today, 13 November 2006. I will be a Holy Man.

*Do note that the term 'ever' is very subjective. For some, 'ever' means ever. For others, 'ever' means two days. Right now, I belong to 'some'.