Great Teacher CO - Part 2

Yawn. Finally, 2 days break in the World Cup before the quarter finals start. These few days have been tiring for me due to the following evening routine:

(a) watch a match from 10 pm to 12 am
(b) catch 2 hours of sleep
(c) wake up at 2 am to watch the other match to 4 am.
(d) catch another 3 hours of sleep
(e) drive to work while avoiding the usual dumbasses on motorbikes and this cow which has been taking up residence in front of my house. Really, I got a cow grazing peacefully in the small padi field outside my house. Like all cows and buffaloes in this country, she has a habit of napping on the road. I shall call her "daisy" since all cows are either called "daisy" or "buttercup".

At the office, it is the hardest thing to focus while suffering from a severe lack of sleep. We all know how it feels like. You feel like you have an out of body experience - that your soul is away from your body and is looking down, thinking to itself" Who is this dumbass sitting on the chair, staring at the PC? Oh wait, is me." Thank God I have perfected the art of pretending to be awake and alert while my brain is on Microsoft screensaver mode/ Intel energy saving format. One does not go through 4 years of NUS education without learning how to keep your eyes open during a lecture, usually conducted by a cheap Indian expat lecturer who can't pronounce "semen" from "cement", while sleeping discreetly. Now who says NUS doesn't teach any useful life skills? Oh wait, that's me again.

Oh yeah, back to my dream of being a teacher.

I dreamt that I walked into a classroom containing like 20 primary six kids. I was dressed . . . funny. Below is my appearance which I created using storTroopers. I looked like this:

Yep, I was walking around with a shirt and tie and wearing a kick-ass Stormtrooper mask. For some reason, it seemed like the most normal thing in the world. The kids in the class were doing the usual dumbshit things kids do like running around the class and screaming at the top of their lungs. One boy stopped when I walked in and asked me rudely who I was. I recalled saying "I am you new relief f-king teacher" and then proceeded to bitch-smack him in the jaw as if I am Stone Cold Steve Austin. Another girl said in a whiny voice "you can't do that, I will complain to . . . ." She couldn't complete her sentence because my foot was in her mouth at that point. Another girl put up her hand, asking "Teacher, I want to go to the toilet." I said "I regret to inform you that there won't be any toilet breaks in my class". At that point, every kid was running towards me yelling to go to the toilet or canteen and for their parents/MOE/Jesus Christ, saying nasty words like child abuse, God loves kids, teachers should be loving towards kids and Singapore MOE want 1st world education system and does not condone physical violence blah blah etc etc. One of kids became so furious that he transformed into Blanka in Streetfighter.

Did I back down from screaming kids in his dream? HELL NO!

So what do you f-cking do when faced with Blanka and hordes of screaming kids? All Singaporean men from age 15-30 know what to do. You threw a fireball at Blanka and then dragon uppercut the hairy bugger when he jumped over the fireball for 10% damage. Like this.

The rest of the screaming horde was more tricky. I had to drink a ginseng potion, charge up my Musou meter while laying a 5-hit combo smackdown (tap A, A, B, C, C+D) on this Eurasian boy who was throwing lego bricks at me. POW! Eurasian boy got nothing on me. This bring my Musou meter to the full and I cancelled my 5-hit combo into Super CO Desperation Power Geyser Special which automatically guard crushes everyone and deals 75% damage to all the little screaming banshees. Round Over - CO Wins! I threw my cap to my adoring fans while a cutscene involving cheering Hooters waitresses and flying mugs of beer was played.


(I fully understand that people who don't play arcade games won't have a frigging clue what I just wrote in the last two paras. Do yourself a favour, go play Dynasty Warriors 5 and King of Fighters like everyone does.)

Actually, this is not the end but I am too tired to continue. What a wonderful dream, eh? Some might ask how one can get such a kick-ass dream. Well, forget about new-age pillows and mattresses. Just follow CO's recipe for kick-ass dreams:

(a) impress the locals by drinking 7 glasses of whiskey (Johnny Walker Black - straight up);
(b) follow it up with a depth charge with a Barcadi 151 shot;
(c) six or seven glasses of beer - not sure.
(c) do (a) - (c) on an EMPTY STOMACH
(d) then top it up with bad Lao food such as their infamous sour sausages which are just raw meat fermented with lime juice in banana leaves. No idea how it taste like? Well, leave a piece of fatty char siew in the afternoon sun for a couple of days. It tastes roughly like that piece of char siew, except it is 100 times worse.

I guarantee that if you follow step (a) to (d), you would have the most wonderful, kick-ass dream. Or you can be dead. Pass me the whiskey again. Germany vs Argentina coming up.

Great Teacher CO - Part 1 (6 steps to be a great teacher)

Great Teacher CO - Part 1

Prologue : I was supposed to put this up earlier. So sue me. World Cup is more important.

I had a wonderful dream last night. This was during the period when VLV was bitching non-stop about her teaching profession. It must have affected my brain waves because I dreamt of being a teacher. Well, you know what the wise, ancient Chinese say: "if you keep thinking of something in the day, you will end up dreaming about it at night. Then you can plead criminal insanity when you run your Chinese mistress over with your car and deposit her body at MacRitchie". Or something like that.

Me- CO, the bitterest caveman in Singapore, a teacher? Rock On! I think I will make a great teacher. I saw enough of the old Japanese GTO - Great Teacher Onizuka series to know what are the 6 steps to teaching superstardom. Follow the next 6 steps and soon, parents and MOE will soon be worshipping you as the Messiah of Teachers.

(a) Be cool and have a spiffy haircut like Takeshi Sorimachi, even though it is not allowed by school rules. A teacher must always defy school rules to be "cool" to the students. Who cares about setting an example?

(b) Massacre the English lexicon and talk like a gangster e.g. "yo! man! - how is it hanging?" or "Hey dude, Fiona Xie is da bomb!" Always substitute "the" with "da" because it is totally da way with today's braindead youngsters. Authority like MOE will totally respect you for talking ghetto slang.

(c) Threaten to kick students off the roof. Come to think of it, I would threaten to do so even though I am not even a teacher. Again, your students and MOE will totally respect you for threatening imminent death or a busted colon to the students to keep them in line.

(d) Romance the pretty teenage class slut (there is always one in every class) who has serious family issues even though her family is rich but is really a good girl and will turn over a new leaf once the teacher (aka you) shows her some attention. Nevermind she is a bullying slut who picks on weaker girls and try to get adults into trouble by claiming sexual harassment even though she is wearing visible thongs for the world to see.

(Oops, did I say romance the class slut? I meant, guide her with loving attention as a teacher).

(e) Romance your teaching colleague which we know is always a beautiful teacher (like Nanako Matsushima) who was a fresh graduate. Like all new female teachers or girls in general, she will pretend to be decent/straight-laced/goody two-shoes and be disgusted by my bad boy ways but is also secretly be turned on by it. The fact that you threatened to kick students off the roof like a psycho or talk like a gangster don't bother her at all. The badder you are, the more she will love you.

(f) Lastly, always armed yourself with witty one-liners designed to charm enraged parents, disgruntled educators and beautiful (and horny) colleagues/students. E.g. when your principal asks you why did you encourage a student to abandon his medical studies and instead take up useless dancing class, you toss around your spiffy hair and said "Carpe Diem! (Seize the day)". Your principal will totally respect you for the witty answer and might even promote you. Even though you have totally ruined the career prospects of a would-be doctor and help added one more useless dancer into the pretentious ranks of arty-farty dancers and he would become gay by the time he is 30. Way to go, Great Teacher.

yo! What's up! I'm da man! Students totally love me for being an obnoxious, violent bastard simply I am creative and can "relate" to da students. Notice my spiffy hair and unbuttoned shirt which are totally not MOE regulation.

There we go, six tried and tested ways to become a Great Teacher. Man, I rule so hard they should give me a public service medal. I was about to write more about this dream I had as a teacher but Italy vs Czech Republic just started. You should know my priorities by now. Later.

MIW.COM.SG

I was informed by MINDEF to go renew my overseas work permit. Ok. In the letter, I was told to go to www.miw.com.sg to do so. Ok. What do I see when I got to www.miw.com.sg? An absolutely rubbish website filled with entertainment news (Shanghai Film Festival opens! Who gives a damn?), Sports & Fitness, and how man could look good for their dates. I thought some gay activist had hacked into MINDEF's website and created his own version of MIW (Men in Workslacks).

Alarmed, I called up MINDEF to tell them that we have a problem. The nice (but frankly bored) receptionist told me that some commercial business bought over the website www.miw.com.sg some time ago. She sounded like she had repeated this message to countless alarmed Singaporean reservists and would like nothing more to choke the next guy who called her on the phone.

My fears allayed, I began to take a closer look at www.miw.com.sg. MIW stands for making it work for the urban men. Making what work exactly? Is something broken which I am unaware of? Maybe "urban men" need some gut transplants to stiffen their spines. I was excited.

But nay, this website is for the "metrosexual urban" men. In other words, I am not welcomed. E.g. MIW Style, with its motto "Looking Good" seeking to transform "boring" engineers into stylish dates. Wow, way to go Champs! Girls would surely go for engineer guys with so much gel on their hair that it would remain straight and true in a typhoon. And we all know that desirable metrosexual men must always be wearing a shirt which leaves the first button unbuttoned! (I am using sarcasm here for the slow). Can you spell P-O-S-E-R-S? It is times like this that I felt like retreating to a cave and just danced round the fire in my bearskin since everybody in this world are hellbent into transforming normal, dumpy Singaporean guys like me into cool "metrosexuals". I don't want to be a metrosexual. I don’t want to do my hair up till I looked like Sharkboy nor wear clothes which expose chest hairs. I don't want to carry a LV bag. Stay away from my cave before I budgeon any metrosexual (aka gay) stylists to death with my prehistoric stone club.

Ah, but a metrosexual website would not be complete without pandering to some girls, would it? So they put up pictures of five girls and asked them "What is the one thing you wish a guy would do for you?"

I don't really expect them to be honest and say" Ooh, I want my man to buy me a LV bag and maybe some diamonds. Maybe also whisk me to New York for shopping and dinner at Paris". We all know that is what girls want from their men. Hell, I would want the same if I have a girlfriend which is filthy rich- maybe substitute the LV bag and diamonds for an Xbox 360 and a ticket to the World Cup in Germany.

But 2 out 5 women gave an answer which perplexed me. They wanted their men to make them a romantic home-cooked dinner all by himself. Before you go AWWW, shucks, that's so sweet . . . DON'T. What is it with Singaporean girls wanting their men to cook a romantic dinner for them? We can't cook. Hell, Singaporean girls can't cook either. Cooking is hard and girls should stop asking their men to cook simply because they are too lazy and incompetent to do so. I have seen the garbage some Singaporean girls produce at home economics classes. Singaporean girls have problems cooking edible rice much less cook a proper meal. And baking cookies doesn’t count. My niece baked me cookies from her home economics class once. The day cookies constitute as a proper meal is the day I move to a cave somewhere in outback Australia and be a hermit. And her cookies suck.

Singaporean men's buds are ruined by years in the army where everything (and I do mean everything) tastes like mutton. "But it is the efforts that count!" I hear girls screamed. Look, we might promise gullible girls we will cook a romantic meal for them but what we do is to ask our mum or maid to help. You think Singaporean men know how to go to the wet market to choose a fresh fish? (for that matter, do Singaporean girls know how?) We wouldn't know the first thing what to do with the fish. Our mothers diced and sliced the food and the most men could do is to throw them in a pot or place the steak into the microwave. What's the point of cooking a romantic dinner again? Grow up, girls. You can't cook, we can't cook - so let's go to the hawker center already. Cut out the homemade romantic dinner BS and ask for LV bags instead. I CAN'T BELIEVE I WROTE THAT.

World Cup II and Vietnam in the early 90's

Many Singaporean girls have been asking why guys could just leave their girlfriends for a month to watch World Cup and what was the fascination about 22 men (sigh) chasing a ball. A few local guy bloggers tried (with a hint of exasperation) to explain and wrote like an entire freaking page listing football statistics and comparing football to other sports to show its uniqueness. May the Good Football God bless these guys for their patience in trying to sing songs to cows. Look, people. Don't waste time trying to explain this to girls. We don't understand LV bag and its different stitchings, girls don’t understand football. It is in our genes. I have heard some girls said this in the pub "Why is David Beckham playing for England? I thought he was with Real Madrid." Instant recipient of the CO's Dumbass Maximus Medal. I will break it down real simple for girls who already started bitching about the lack of attention from their guys when we are, oh I don't know, ONLY 5 DAYS into the WC. The ultimate truth is:

WE DON’T LOVE YOU AS MUCH AS FOOTBALL. HA HA HA!

Seriously, guys wait on their girls like manservants (aka male bitches) for four years and when they wanted to take some time off to watch the only sport they like with their old friends from the Army/JC/University, girls start to bitch about the lack of attention? Attention whores, all of them. Wait till England vs Brazil comes around. You girls won't be able to get your guys to save you from a burning house.

"Help, the house is burning!"

"Hmmm, later lah, honey. Stupid Owen just hit the bar. Wah lau eh!"

Oh, and here's one important tip for girls. You should not be mad if your guy asked to watch football with his buddies. In fact, be happy. You should instead be concerned if your guy DOES NOT and show zero interest in football. You know what they say about guys who don't watch football and enjoy taking long walks in the evenings? Can you say BROKEBACK?

Done laughing. Time to watch World Cup. Here's an entry I wrote recently when my New Zealander friend visited me.


VIETNAM IN THE 90'S

My New Zealander friend (let's call her NJ) is a Chinese born in New Zealand. She works for the UN and thus has to go around the world to problem spots. Her first assignment was in Hongkong to manage the Vietnamese boat people who landed in Hong Kong in the 80's. It was of course, an emotional time. For those not aware of the historical background of the boat people, this is CO's brief history lesson. In 1979, Vietnam fought a war with China and many Vietnamese Chinese fled the country. They braved the high tides and pirates to come to Southeast Asia and it became a humanitarian crisis as countries had to set up refugee camps to house these people. It is times like this when you are reminded as to how lucky we are to be born in Singapore.

NJ told me a funny story. She managed to travel back to Vietnam in the early 90's to see how the country was doing. She went to Hue (an old royal capital city somewhere in central Vietnam). In the early 90's, Hue was still the archetypical backward city with no proper electricity and night entertainment. NJ was thus surprised to see many people streaming towards a school. Curious, NJ followed and realised that throngs of people were crowding around waiting to watch a movie. So NJ paid like less than a US$0.20 dollar for a ticket. She also got herself a massive tub of ice-cream complimentary which came with a ticket (now that's cool). So, let's recap. NJ was in

(a) a run-down school hall in old Hue City in communist Vietnam;
(b) surrounded by hundreds of Vietnamese who can't speak English;
(c) holding a stubby cinema ticket and a large tub of ice-cream; and
(d) waiting to see a movie on a flickering projector.

So guess what movie they were showing?

PRETTY WOMAN.

This was in Communist Vietnam and the Viet Congs fought a war with the US and they were showing Pretty Woman? And the funny thing was that Pretty Woman was dubbed in Vietnamese. BY THE SAME PERSON.

So the same person was playing both Richard Gere and Julia Robert's parts in Vietnamese. One minute, he was speaking Richard Gere's part in a manly, low baritone voice and the next, he was squeaking trying to imitate Julia Robert's sexy voice. Poor, overworked bastard. I wonder how did he say "Slippery little sucker" in Julia Robert's voice in Vietnamese? NJ was practically trying to control herself from laughing. Apparently, the whole Vietnamese crowd was so into the movie, you could hear a pin drop.

God bless American movies. The US army might have lost the Vietnam War but Pretty Woman finished the job for them.

World Cup and Fried Rice Paradise

The World Cup is here! Halleujah and the football gods be praised! Time for all the ladies to go shop for their LV bags alone while bitching about why their guys are holed up in some friend's dingy house with beers in one hand and fried chicken in the other. I know, I know. All the women are shaking their heads and wondering what the hell is the big fuss about. By the way, if I hear one more woman saying "It is just 22 men running around after a ball", I might burst a blood vein. First, it is 20 men running after a ball (goalkeepers stay put in their boxes, dumbass) and second, guys measured their life by the number of world cups they have seen. Primitive tribes have this rite of passage in which the youth must go into a jungle and kill a boar with a flint dagger before he could be considered a man. We have the World Cup. One cannot be considered a grown man if he had not passed out drunk from drinking in sorrow after the latest cock-up by England.

So I am going to be happily oblivious to everything else in my life from now till July. I am going to be pretend to be generous and tell my maid she could come in later and leave once she had done her stuff. All engagements in the evenings are off. Cute girls ranked 1-4 on CO's beauty scale could not drag me from the TV in my living room. Maybe Kelly Hu and when some shit matches are on like Tunisia vs Saudi Arabia (SNOOrre). Although it will be fun to hear the British commentator wrestle with Saudi and Tunisian names when commentating :

"Mohammed Al-Shalhoub passed the ball to Hussein Abdul Ghani who backheeled the ball to err . . Mohammed Al-Anbar, I think. Ooh, here comes Tunisian striker Yassine Chik -err- something trying to win the ball back. He missed but team-mate Chaouki Ben Saada or was it Kaies Ghodban, helped with a wonderful tackle on err, I think that was Saad Al-Harthi. No wait, it is Nawaf Al-Temyat who was backheeling to Yasser Al-Qahtani. Or was it Abdul Aziz Al-Khathran? I thought Aal-Khathran was already subsititued for Saad Al-Harthi? ARRGH. F- it all. (throw microphone down and started crying)".

I am going to stock up on important necessities of life such as beer. I am going to do my f-king war-dance when I run around the room screaming like a girl who had just found a special edition of an LV Murakami bag on special offer when England scores (it f-king better). Hey, it is once every four years, ladies and gentleman. Let the good times roll.

Blogging-wise, I am taking the opportunity to put up short stuff which I wrote but never seen the light of the day because (a) I am appalled by the quality of my own writing and (b) some are written when I am straight up tipsy (aka : drunk). Like the one below:

- - - - -

FRIED RICE PARADISE

Fried rice. I don't get it.

I got into an argument with my Thai language teacher in Bangkok in early 2003. That woman was claiming that the one of the national cusinies of Thailand was get this : FRIED RICE. Fried Rice? You know the dish made up of leftover rice which you fried it with eggs and maybe some luncheon meat? I remember putting up my hand to politely point out that there was no way Thailand could claim fried rice as their national dish. I have tasted their fried rice, it doesn't taste any different from our fried rice except they threw in enough MSG and oil to marinate a whale. That woman got agitated and started repeating louder and louder that papaya salad and fried rice are Thailand's national cuisines.

The whole freaking argument was conducted in Thai. At the school, we were forbidden to use English to converse when learning Thai which was like one of THE dumbest rules in education. Apparently the school was following this up-class (aka posers) educational method which believed that students would learn a foreign language faster when they were forbidden to use their mother tongues. Which was stupid since all of us ended up using F-KING SIGN LANGUAGE FOR FOUR MONTHS and still couldn't tell whether mai (Thai) refers to wood, silk or fire.

My language proficiency at that time was limited to "khow pad may chay aahan thay ler. Tuk prathaat thong mii khow pad." (Thai translation: Fried rice is no freaking way a Thai cuisine. Many countries got it, you - - - -). I would have punctuate my line with a "dumbass" description but I don't know what's Thai for dumbass. The school vehemently refused to teach me. So I couldn't possibly win the argument. All my Japanese and American classmates were looking in amusement at our verbal volley exchanges until I gave up and spent the rest of the class thinking how satisifying it would be if I could drop-kicked her into a tub of yangzhou fried rice which would wake her up because yangzhou fried rice are awesome.

Fried rice is fried rice. They might look different but just because someone adds sausages and a couple of prawns in it doesn't make it the Thai national cuisine. I like to add century eggs on my fried rice when I cooked on Saturday but it doesn't make it Singapore's national cuisine. The Thais have wonderful food such as Tom Yum Kung (spicy soup) which is original, unique to Thailand, is awesome and kick incomprehensible amount of culinary ass . Now that truly a national cuisine. But not fried rice. Blah.

(Just by adding eggs and basil leaves, this dish is a national Thai cuisine?)

If the world of food are oceans, fried rice would be considered international waters. No countries could claim it under the Law of the Sea and all ship could sail in its waters in peace. Fried rice is probably the one and only thing everyone in every country can cook and I will be damned if I let some country claimed it as their own just by adding sausages and basil leaves on it.

P.S : Pineapple rice is also not a local Thai dish either. It is a strictly Singaporean creation which was exported to Thailand.

While the laptop is down

I got the laptop up again. Thank god. I basically shook at it real hard, called it nasty names and threatened the mouse. Just kidding. My tech guy basically told me I shouldn't charge it 24/7 and should let the laptop's battery do some work now and then. Imagine that.

So while the laptop is down, I have to borrow a friend's laptop to do like 10 minutes of surfing every morning. Usually, CNA and a few known blogs to get some grasp of what has been happening around. I see Xiaxue is in Disneyland -lucky. You know, I always wonder about the difference between the Disneylands in States, Paris and Tokyo. Somehow, the angmoh Snow White I saw in Tokyo Disneyland looked kinda lonely. In any case, it is an intriguing exercise to go from one blog link to another, guided only by whether the name of the blog sounds interesting. To quote from Forest Gump, 'Life is like a box of chocolates - you don't know what you are going to get". Wait, hang on. Don't you still get chocolates? Forest Gump = dumbass.

And I have been extremely impressed by the quality of the lesser known blogs. There are some bloggers out there which actually talk about really sensitive subjects which are close to their hearts like a death of a loved one and tribulations of a single mother. Can't help but to be fascinated by their courage. I just like to highlight something I read which is like, so typical of how a Singaporean couple (married somemore) got into a nasty fight.

Summary : It all started when the wife had to spend hours putting on makeup while the husband was fuming in the living room, looking at the watch. They were supposed to watch a movie and by the time the girl was done, the guy had like 15 minutes to drive like a demon down to town before the movie started. (Doesn't really take a genius to figure out how it all ended). The guy was silent in the car, the girl got irritated at the guy's silent treatment and viola, the girl basically threw popcorns to the ground at the cinema, ticked off the guy in public and walked off telling the guy to watch the movie himself.

Does it sound familiar or what? If I run Marina Bay Sands, I will give betting odds at 11/4 that there is exactly how 90% of quarrels between Singaporean couples (married or non married) got started.

I was about to burst out laughing in my usual evil and cynical way when I actually had an interesting observation of the girl's thought process. The girl was actually angry because her guy (well, we are guys afterall) didn't really give a toss about the hours of efforts the girl put into her makeup. And the reason why the girl put so much time and effort into her makeup is to look good for her guy. You can't really fault the girl's reasoning because hey, she is actually thinking for her guy. Which is admirable - although in a slightly dumbass way in view of the bigger picture of expecting the guy to defy physics and haul asses down to town in record time and also missing the entire FREAKING MOVIE.

Ta-dah. Critical difference between the thinking process of man and woman, succintly shown by an excellent Singaporean example. Someone should really give the girl blogger a medal for presenting a impressive social essay on the roadblocks in a relationship. Man, I wish I could remember the blog's name so that I could put a nice comment somewhere. If she ever came to my blog (again at generous odds of 11/6 that it will never happen), this is the guy's thought process laid out for her easy understanding:

Husband (fuming in the living room) : WHAT THE F is the woman doing in the bathroom? Painting a Michaelangelo on the ceiling like the Sistine Chapel? OMG - the f-king Da Vinci Code is going to start like 15 minutes and we are not even out of the front door yet. We are going to miss the shit! Not only that, I am going to have to speed and drive like 100km/h down Holland Road which would mean I would be caught by those pesky TP cameras. What's the point of being pretty and going to town to watch a f-king movie if we couldn't even make it to the movie? AARGH!"

Husband (fuming in the car) : OMG OMG OMG - WE ARE GOING TO DIE BY DRIVING SO FAST.

Husband (fuming at the ticket counter) : WTF. I spent almost S$20 for us to sit in Row A and have to crane my neck to see Tom Hanks talk ass for 2 hours plus? And why is my wife so quiet? She should be thankful that I managed to haul our ass down in record time and apologise for us having to seat in freaking row A and missing like the first 10 minutes of the movie.

Husband (fuming after the girl had told him off in public and walked off) : Bitch. How did I end up with her?

It is not exactly rocket science. All of us probably could figure that the worst thing the girl could do was to dump popcorn on the ground, scold the guy in public and asked the guy to f-off and watch the movie himself. For one thing, popcorn (preferably salted) is expensive. And scolding your better half (guy or girl) in public is like burning your bridges. Using a flamethrower. And an ICBM missile strike. Problem is - there is no real solution to the guy watch movie/girl put on makeup divide is there? It is like a Gordian Knot. The obvious solution is to have good time management and tell your wife to start putting on makeup early, like 6 hours early. Hell, do it the day before. But most Singaporean married couples are pressed for time anyway. Perhaps the solution is for the husband to hug the wife and tell her no matter how ugly (like a cow) she might be, he would be proud to go to town with her. Then she might feel less the need to dress up for her man.

Either that, they could just have kids and forget ever about going to town. Ever. For the last thing we want is to see some dumbasses drive like 100 km/h down Holland Road hoping to do a Superman in trying to reverse time.

Project Superdumbass

I was reading an online interview in the TNP (last Friday's edition, I think) with Project Superstar finalist HJY before my laptop went kaput and shut down for good. Apparently HJY is this guy who rose to fame in this show in Singapore called Project Superstar. I don't know exactly what Project SS does but if this guy made it to the finals, I am assured that it can only be another cringe-worthy TV show on par with VR Man (Take heart, James Lye. We cry with you).

I do not blame my laptop. HJY's responses were so stupid that CO's laptop decided that it no longer could stand the sheer shockwave of dumbness and committed technocide by voluntary disconnection. I am not making this up. My IBM X31 laptop is currently inoperational.

(Poser king who thought there are unicorns in LOTR giving a thumbs up to besotted girl fans. Don't you hate posers who do the thumbs up signs?)

In case you didn't read the TNP, HJY said that he was inspired to name his new album Unicorn because of Lord of the Rings. CO's alarm went off immediately because guess what bitches? THERE ARE NO F-KING UNICORNS IN THE LOTR.

So in the spirit of making fun of dumbasses and posers, I will do a parody of TNP's interview into what CO would ask Prince Charming HJY.

- - - - -

CO : Good morning, Mr HJY.

HJY : Good morning, CO.

CO : There is no need to repeat after me.

HJY : Oh, sorry. It is just that I have no opinion.

CO : I figure. Now let's get on with the interview. You have a new album called Unicorn. The obvious question is why did you name it "Unicorn"?

HJY : I was inspired by Lord of the Rings - one of the greatest fantasy movie of all time. I was really touched . . .

CO : Excuse me. Did you say LOTR?

HJY : Yes.

CO : There are no unicorns in the LOTR books or movies.

HJY : No?

CO : There are lots of normal horses, eagles, Nazguls, giant elephants and even an army of walking trees. But no horses with horns on their foreheads.

HJY : No unicorns?

CO : Nope. You are bullshitting, aren't you?

HJY : Uh . . .

CO : (Sigh) I will be nice and help you out, you tongue-tied bastard. You are actually thinking of Narnia, right?

HJY : Uh. . . (public relations guy passed Hong a piece of paper). No I wasn't bullshitting or thinking of Narnia. Well, I was actually inspired by Gandalf's (the wizard, played by Ian McKellen) resurrection, because it represents an unfading energy.

CO : What has Gandalf's resurrection and "unfading energy" got to do with unicorns?

HJY : Ah ha! After he got resurrected, he rode to see the Rohan king on a unicorn! The magnificent creature carried Gandalf with great speed and such grace . . . .

CO : Shadowfax is a great white horse. Not a unicorn.

HJY : No, it is a unicorn.

CO : White horse. Granted, it is the king of horses. But do you see a f-king horn on its head?

HJY : (major panic) Oh. Ahh. (Public relations guy whispered something in his ears). But like the unicorn, I seem to be aloof but am full of passion on the inside.

CO : So it is has nothing to do with LOTR or Gandalf's resurrection or even Narnia?

HJY : (in a small voice) uh . no.

CO : Man, you are a stupid poser. Despite that, I understand that besotted girls are calling you Prince Charming after your rise to fame in this Project Superstar show. So what now for Prince Charming?

HJY : I think it's good that I can influence people in a positive way. I hope to be able to inspire people.

CO : Inspire people by not being able to tell a horse from a mythical unicorn or inspire people not to imitate your poser smile?

HJY : Uh . . I also plan to continue dabbling in acting and hosting. I'm not the sort of person to stay away from something.

CO : Why don’t you stay away from making stupid statements for a start?

HJY : Uh, Ok.

CO : Thank you for your time. Oh, have you heard of CO's scale for beauty/ugliness, 1 being the most beautiful (Kelly Hu) and 10 being the most ugly (Sadako)?

HJY : No. Am I on it?

CO : After this interview, you are. Congratulations, you are No. 8!

HJY : Woo-Hoo! High score!