Potty thoughts

Since I've been thrown out of my regular schedule for the past couple of weeks, the regular morning shit-shower-shave routine has had to drop the shit-shower part to get to work on time and as such, i've had to use public crappers more. That's right, no more comfort zone shitting. Shit.

Taking the private potty experience into the public sphere always becomes an aurally stimulating experience as one intently analyzes every sound that the shitting neighbour(s) make.

Half an hour ago, I was on the crapper... occupying myself with deleting old text messages off my phone. On both my left and right is the sound of men laboring over the delivery of their brown babies, and like a movie background score is the pitterpatter of the three of us rapidly nailing buttons on our cell phones.

Amidst these sounds, I wander off to the many things I want to blog about... most of which are impossible to remember once I'm off the pot. Kinda like my "Hi my name is paul and I tra lah blah-blah-blah" end lines. I love 'em. I get to sign off each blog and tell the world just a leetle bit about me, and I find the disclosure gratifying. On the pot, I think that my next end line should read "Hi my name is paul and my hobbies are swimming, playing golf and receiving fellatio". That's a lie actually. I don't like swimming.

And labour day weekend starts in just one and a half hours :D

And in the latest bust...

Been recently implicated as ring leader of the dumbest gang in history to loot the underground...

Feels like anyway.

Life's trivialities have a knack for looming larger than life.

iwannabeapoet

Going through the mountain that has accumulated over the last month, I found this poem that I must've written some time in recent weeks. I quite like it, so don't judge me for it, but if you have to say its crap, then at least leave it in a comment.

This Content

Like a waterfall miles down
the river, a rain that came
while we were out at sea - the time
that I was always told would come
is suddenly here. Funny then, that everything
I ever wanted arrives just after desire
has made its departure, a sober
maybe even sensible fellow
left behind.

Funny how you look at stuff you wrote just moments ago and feel like you've grown out of it already.

Thanks for having a look, my name is paul and I believe idealism is worth it.

Cos fumbling with a box is a pain

somebody build this!

And in today's blog

I'd like to tell you that nooshy is my bubblemate and that this is one cool blog.

A perfect weekend

I'm not a commitment-phobe. Long-lastin' lurve is a very desirable situation.

But here's the charted progression of relationships.

1. i like you
2. i weally weally like you
3. think i love you
4. i love you so much - i need you forever
5. but i also wanna grow - and you're not letting me do all that crazy shit babe.
6. we're great but maybe we should try again in 20 years.

And its back to livin' it up in the 'ood. The single hood. Banks, babes n booze aww yea. Real fulfilling stuff.

Its hard to ignore idealism teasing unrelentlessly with the dream of a perfect union.

Two free spirits. Intimacy. Space.

Passion. Honesty. Hopefully a pretty face.

My name is Paul and over the weekend I got around to thinking that maybe idealism isn't so crazy after all.

Those that vanish... stay... ah who knows

It seems that there is nothing quite as exhilarating as letting-go with someone who might just disappear tomorrow.

Like a good game of catch-22, its the freedom of all-to-rare honest human interaction that stirs the human mind into making something more of the situation. At about this moment in history, I think I've also learnt that my humanness tends to fuck everything up. *sigh* A particularly sweet irony of life, this.

Its been one of the best half-weeks of my life. The kind that I crave. Every other half-week of the year.

Thank You.

She waits bedside...

One hot tamale

Pop psychology pins attraction down to observables like the ability for a dude to hunt the deer or for a chick to churn out babies. Remember the manly man ? I don't want to be him anymore, fun as it might be being a latin stallion. J-Lo's hips don't make her my favorite and I don't need another ounce of testosterone in this body. The manly man dream is over because, post-myfantasticweekend this bloggin metrosexual has been awakened to the scent of hot salsa.

Last weekend I met someone with such strong spirit that she exists in realms where I'd worry that my own substance would seep through its insecurities. A champion for living. Have my assurance that there are few feelings as fantastic as admiring such a person from right under her fingernails.

And when you're under her fingernails, you just might find a connection. The type that's made when two people really recognize each other - and the planet is just a little more intimate after that.

I had an awesome weekend. I admired. I connected. I even learnt to Salsa.

Don't wanna be a playa no more

Playa is actually defined as- A nearly level area at the bottom of an undrained desert basin, sometimes temporarily covered with water. dictionary.com

or

Periodically-flooded basin common in parts of the Southwest. (CancerWeb Medical Dict?)

Ebonics is losing its grip.

So, drunk & barely boogeyin on the phuture floor last night, sexy colleague #1 (Let's call this one number 2- based on GEOGRAPHICAL PROXIMITY) tells me that I'm a playa. Say wha? (You've also gotta understand that this woman is a man-eater)

First you have to define a playa. Since I can't find a relevant web definition I'm going to create one -

Playa: One who engages into attraction with many others with the intention of having a whole lotta SEX.

I'd appreciate any help with that definition - but I think it pretty much goes along those lines.

The thing about playaz, is that like salesmen, they're playing the numbers game, working on as many targets as possible. A playa also employs techniques from dating text books, or if he's really good, develops some of his own - the premature playa brushes your nipples with his beer-grasping knuckles but the advanced playa - he plays it really cool, charms you off your feet with any combination of worldliness and GQesque charm, and above all, never, ever tells you how he really feels unless its I really love you sleep with me NOW. Or maybe he'll use something more tactful that he learnt in last month's FHM .

Me - no game, no technique, no glorious fucking list of bedded chicks. Add to that - embarrassingly transparent about attraction. How to be playa?

Thanks for readin, I'm paul and I'm off to sober up over bk teh.

An Italian lady & a Latin hairy

Somehow, I managed to leave the house early this morning. Oh, the luxury of 10 rush-hour minutes, affording me the pleasure of cruising down the middle lane, bumpin' along to bob marley. A far cry from the usual high speed chase from the tailgating monster to Cap Sq. Considering the volume of traffic at this hour, the air quality's actually very decent and its still a pleasure to have the windows down. A big thank you to everyone for driving a Japanese air purifier.

Regretfully for the environment, I will soon cease travel with the amazing corolla when my Italian mistress gets back on the road. Just a few more weeks... Gina would be ready sooner if my weekends were spent a little more sober, but I guess the flirtatious alcoholic monkey has buried his car-geek counterpart in bananas, backroom of my cranium.

Back to yesterday's talk about da manly man. This is what my cubicle neighbor and I want to be.

A penchant for pendants, this manly man has.

Fools of Attraction

My lady colleagues are self-admittedly weak kneed for intellectual men - the types who pull quotes from literature as part of their strategies of romantic pursuit. This is, of course, in addition to being both rich, dashing and of the alpha male descript. Alpha male?

Please Fire Me

Here comes another alpha male,
and all the other alphas
are snorting and pawing,
kicking up puffs of acrid dust

while the silly little hens
clatter back and forth
on quivering claws and raise
a titter about the fuss.

Here comes another alpha male-
a man's man, a dealmaker,
holds tanks of liquor,
charms them pantsless at lunch:

I've never been sicker.
Do I have to stare into his eyes
and sympathize? If I want my job
I do. Well I think I'm through

with the working world,
through with warming eggs
and being Zenlike in my detachment
from all things Ego.

I'd like to go
somewhere else entirely,
and I don't mean
Europe.

- Deborah Garrison

Come to work in Singapore, Deborah, not a lot of alphaMs to tolerate if you survive the henhouse.

I can't refute the attraction to alpha males though. After all, on the flip side - deeply rooted in every metrosexual is a secret desire for... hmm... there isn't a pop term for it - a bad chick. A real beef-ripping, man-eatin', commitment-fearing lollipop. This attraction to Jane the Ripper surely derives from a twist of Freudian argument which I'm too daft to explain - I'm no hypothetist, I just try to describe what's there. And it's there alright.

This morning at the altar I asked for 3 things. More love on earth today than yesterday, more peace, and help with making more enlightened decisions. Should have added larger nuts to the list.

Thanks for reading. I'm paul & I just discovered brushing after lunch.

who likes who likes who & how

Over the ages, it tickles me that straight men and women are still deliberating over tactics and strategies on dealing with the center of their romantic attention (Well, not that I know that gay individuals don't either, I don't.) Oh, the mind games that we are driven to play. It's like marketing. Encode (arguably ENCRYPT) the message, transmit it, then let the poor sucka the other end decode it- and if you did such a good job encoding (e.g. pulling obscure spiritual quotes from the ancients) that you leave the other party clueless - well then the other end's just another idiot.

Over here, its been an onslaught of he-likes-her-likes-him. Colleagues are busy analyzing newfound puppy love, friends are un-requiting it (if there is even such a word), yet other buddies are are trying to eat it only to find out someone else ate their cheese. Its funny, and I get to feel a little bit involved in all of it since people inevitably enjoy sharing the juice, and I am as kaypoh as my next door neighbour.

Admittedly, I simply cannot keep up with the sign reading game. I think at this stage, I've come to recognize that I'll read into the last batter of her eyelids any way that I want to, and that it'll come to nothing but self-inflicted heart ache.

SO. I'm committed to saying it like it is. From here on. I like, I tell, I kena reject/bochup, caaaan heart-ache short while. Don't like, orrrso tell, kena label hao lian - well... nothing new there.

My name is paul & I'm still tryin to keep it real.



Last minute tag-on: Check out another one of my gorgeous colleagues . Give 'er your vote cos she deeserves eet :D

I say potato u say potah-to

I got an E8 for my Chinese O levels. I don't speak it very well either. My spoken Chinese was too embarassing for use until sophomore year in college when I had a Taiwanese room mate, who'd refuse to speak to me in anything other than his melodic mandarin. Great - my spoken language actually improved to the point where I was comfortable speaking it, and would in fact use it wherever given the chance, even if I had a 3 year old's vocabulary.

Fast forward just two years and I'm back in Singapore. Everyone I know gives me the jiak kan tang shit. Ok, so my Chinese sucks, but I gotta try, right? Fuck man.

Anyway, I've a friend enrolling with me to take business mandarin classes at the Chinese Chamber of Commerce - woo hoo :D Screw ya'll I ain't a potato eata

Right to left

Everyone has had this experience, at least on impatient Singaporean roads - flick on your indicator to change lane, and the car behind you in the destination lane promptly jumps on the accelerator thus giving you no room to enter. If you enter anyway, highbeams or horns ensue.

Singing my way to work this morning I motored upon a fellow motorist who's behavior was surely cultivated to prevent this exact scenario from happening. All the way from Grange to Pickering, an MPV-green Mazda premacy displayed this road tactic which I guess would be called reverse indicating. Indicate right, merge left. Indicate left, merge right. No cars zoom in to kill you - peace prevails. So clever!

At the office, streamin radio. I am so proud of my fellow countrymen. Its great to be home :)