The Great Singapore Blackout

Firstly, WTF???!

I wanted to sleep, and was on the verge thereof. Closed my eyes even. A split-second later, complete silence. No air-con, no PC fan hum. I cursed the electrician and his newly installed power switchboard, then looked out the window and realised, ok, the whole neigbourhood’s a little dark. Nair mind, Teo Chee Hean’s my neighbour. Power sure come back one. Defence Minister leh.

Several SMS exchanges later, it dawns on me that this is something big. My farder the conspiracy theorist said, ‘I think sabotage you know?!'; My mum, sis and bro-in-law, who between them have twenty seven torchlights, turn them all on. My nephew screams for the whole family to muster round his bed. My brother reports via sms that all is still well in Chinatown, and that the official explanation of a gas disruption to the power station is complete BS.

The power’s just come back on, and after two hours of being lost in the unpowered wilderness, I quickly turn on my computer, hoping to log on. I can’t. I write this on my trusty offline blogging tool.

Two hours of a power failure and my whole life turns upside down.

I’ve taken the very desperate measure of taking out my phone’s SIM card and putting it into the Nokia D11 wifi/gprs/gsm combo thingie and stuck it into my computer just so I can get online and figure out what the hell’s wrong with my internet connection through SCV Maxonline. Fuck!

Insomniacs Anonymous. Open 24hrs

iTunes is playing: Beyond the Sea – Bobby Darin – A Life Less Ordinary

It’s been a very, very long work day, and I am very, very exhausted. I will sleep soon. But I will wake up after two hours. Such is my plight. (Alamak, punctuated like George W. Bush’s speech pattern).

It’s not that I am defeatist about my affliction. It is chronic, and there’s little I can do about it. I have only the respite that my habitual Sunday afternoon nap affords me, and I really look forward to that.

K-Crock

iTunes is playing: It’s Only Love – The Beatles – Anthology 2 – Disc 1

I’ve changed my mind about Windstruck. It is still a dumb movie, but it warrants a little more talking about. If you’ve spare time and are really not impressed with other box office offerings (or have a huge crush on Jeon Ji-Hyun), then this is the movie for you. The opening half hour draws you in. The slapstick has heart. You giggle along. You think it’s a romantic-comedy-melodrama and you’re strung along, liking the characters along the way. Then the knives are out. Director Kwak Jae-Yong is ruthless in sticking it up every genre Korean audiences (and lovers of K-everything) treat as staple: Romantic melodrama (Titanic); Romantic comedy with supernatural element, k-style (My Sassy Girl, incidentally, Kwak’s own film); Gangster flicks (Friend); Teen gangster flicks (Volcano High). The references are deliberately painful too. Kwak seems to enjoy killing you softly with k-melodrama, over and over and over and over again in the last half hour of the film till you want to swear yourself off ever watching another Korean film, whether or not Ji-Hyun’s in it.


Bumbling, good natured feller meets tough as nails pretty chick, meets with an accident, helps out as some supernatural force… voila, K-Film box office success!

In other news, everyone else around me seems to be having relationship problems, which I’d write about if I could make sense of them without getting the ingredients of their troubles mixed up. Seems to be the time of the year for these Troubles. So fashionable even those not in a relationship seem to want to display the anguish of having the Troubles too. To those, I say, stop the nonsense right now. I’ve enough on my plate. I’ve had friends telling me stuff till the cows have come home, set up a cottage industry and left again on a global franchising push, and there’s still no apparent solution to their woes. I can choose not to listen, but you’re just too loud. So, bugger off, I can buy my own tea.


Teh Ice. Spize Restaurant. River Valley Road.


Parting shot: Why Becks did what he did at Euro 2004.

K-Crock

iTunes is playing: It’s Only Love – The Beatles – Anthology 2 – Disc 1

I’ve changed my mind about Windstruck. It is still a dumb movie, but it warrants a little more talking about. If you’ve spare time and are really not impressed with other box office offerings (or have a huge crush on Jeon Ji-Hyun), then this is the movie for you. The opening half hour draws you in. The slapstick has heart. You giggle along. You think it’s a romantic-comedy-melodrama and you’re strung along, liking the characters along the way. Then the knives are out. Director Kwak Jae-Yong is ruthless in sticking it up every genre Korean audiences (and lovers of K-everything) treat as staple: Romantic melodrama (Titanic); Romantic comedy with supernatural element, k-style (My Sassy Girl, incidentally, Kwak’s own film); Gangster flicks (Friend); Teen gangster flicks (Volcano High). The references are deliberately painful too. Kwak seems to enjoy killing you softly with k-melodrama, over and over and over and over again in the last half hour of the film till you want to swear yourself off ever watching another Korean film, whether or not Ji-Hyun’s in it.


Bumbling, good natured feller meets tough as nails pretty chick, meets with an accident, helps out as some supernatural force… voila, K-Film box office success!

In other news, everyone else around me seems to be having relationship problems, which I’d write about if I could make sense of them without getting the ingredients of their troubles mixed up. Seems to be the time of the year for these Troubles. So fashionable even those not in a relationship seem to want to display the anguish of having the Troubles too. To those, I say, stop the nonsense right now. I’ve enough on my plate. I’ve had friends telling me stuff till the cows have come home, set up a cottage industry and left again on a global franchising push, and there’s still no apparent solution to their woes. I can choose not to listen, but you’re just too loud. So, bugger off, I can buy my own tea.


Teh Ice. Spize Restaurant. River Valley Road.


Parting shot: Why Becks did what he did at Euro 2004.

Hot Hypermart Sunday

iTunes is playing: The Man I Love (Strike Up the Band) – Andre Previn/Dinah Washington – Lady Sings the Blues [EMI] Disc 2


Cloudless sky. 1.45pm Sunday.

Sunday turned out blue cloudless skies, brisk, hot winds and a motherfucking big headache from not drinking enough water. All Sundays should look like that though. Except for the headache.

I had my Jeon Ji-Hyun fix last night, even if the movie was the stupidest thing I’ve watched in a while. I knew it was gonna be a pretty daft movie, even if the film deliberately took the micky out of fans of k-melodrama. But just like falling in love against your better judgement, you’re compelled to watch it. I looked at my watch no less than five times in the second hour of the film.

My headache’s worse now because I spent an hour at Tekka Mall, at this Shin Seong Hypermart, trying to buy supplies for this week’s work. Little India on a Sunday is too little for all the Indians. Worse, the non-Indians think it’s fun to throng there on a Sunday arvo too, all happily partaking in jaywalking joy. I must try that some time: eat some curry, then dodge cars.

Hot Hypermart Sunday

iTunes is playing: The Man I Love (Strike Up the Band) – Andre Previn/Dinah Washington – Lady Sings the Blues [EMI] Disc 2


Cloudless sky. 1.45pm Sunday.

Sunday turned out blue cloudless skies, brisk, hot winds and a motherfucking big headache from not drinking enough water. All Sundays should look like that though. Except for the headache.

I had my Jeon Ji-Hyun fix last night, even if the movie was the stupidest thing I’ve watched in a while. I knew it was gonna be a pretty daft movie, even if the film deliberately took the micky out of fans of k-melodrama. But just like falling in love against your better judgement, you’re compelled to watch it. I looked at my watch no less than five times in the second hour of the film.

My headache’s worse now because I spent an hour at Tekka Mall, at this Shin Seong Hypermart, trying to buy supplies for this week’s work. Little India on a Sunday is too little for all the Indians. Worse, the non-Indians think it’s fun to throng there on a Sunday arvo too, all happily partaking in jaywalking joy. I must try that some time: eat some curry, then dodge cars.

One of the Steph ways to heaven

iTunes is playing: Bonde – Ali Farka Toure with Ry Cooder – Talking Timbuktu

So, Steph Song finally calls after we’ve been playing phone tag for the past coupla days. I’m not sure who called who first, but I remember being asked to call back later because she was tending to her garden. She says she wishes to have me over for coffee, and berates me for not replying her SMSs. I said I replied. She says, Hmmm what’s wrong with my phone? I sez is it Starhub? She sez yes. I sez ask your boyfriend to stop making ads for them then.

I am distracted from further conversation by an expanding exchange on MSN Messenger. I sez OK coffee wonuvzeezdays.

I eat a whole box of Mushi Mushi Mochi Frozen Yogurt Ice Cream (6 mochis in a box) and feel sick afterward. I watch “My Sassy Girl” on Channel U and get fed up with the squeaky Mandarin voices dubbing my chagiya’s voice. Why do all Mandarin dubbing artists have squeaky voices?


One of the Steph ways to heaven

iTunes is playing: Bonde – Ali Farka Toure with Ry Cooder – Talking Timbuktu

So, Steph Song finally calls after we’ve been playing phone tag for the past coupla days. I’m not sure who called who first, but I remember being asked to call back later because she was tending to her garden. She says she wishes to have me over for coffee, and berates me for not replying her SMSs. I said I replied. She says, Hmmm what’s wrong with my phone? I sez is it Starhub? She sez yes. I sez ask your boyfriend to stop making ads for them then.

I am distracted from further conversation by an expanding exchange on MSN Messenger. I sez OK coffee wonuvzeezdays.

I eat a whole box of Mushi Mushi Mochi Frozen Yogurt Ice Cream (6 mochis in a box) and feel sick afterward. I watch “My Sassy Girl” on Channel U and get fed up with the squeaky Mandarin voices dubbing my chagiya’s voice. Why do all Mandarin dubbing artists have squeaky voices?


Pigging out

iTunes is playing: Johnny Porter – Ry Cooder – Borderline



Pork rib soup (Bak Kut Teh) at Balestier Road.

Couldn’t catch a movie earlier, so I went out to grab a bite. A big one it turned out to be, with me eating a quarter of a pig, a bowl of rice and some salted vegetables at one of the many 24 hour eating houses along Pork Rib Alley (Balestier Road). My friend E had a more delicate bowl of pig liver mee sua. This particular restaurant (directly opposite the 7-11 and next to Martaban Road) is good. There’s the pork knuckle dish that melts in your mouth, and the handsome bloke in the greasy singlet rolled up over his bulging belly (waiter and mascot) comes by now and again to check if you’ve drunk your peppery pork soup. If you have, he’ll top the bowl up with another ladle.

It’s amazing how I still manage to keep my svelte figure.

Lately, there’s still been people suggesting Funky Hongky and Silly Singapore Names to me. E said I should read yesterday’s ST Life!, where it was announced that Ericia “I’m half-Chinese-half-rabbit” Lee’s younger sister had signed with Mediaworks as an Artits. Her name is Ezann(!). She studied psychology in Brisbane for a bit before deciding she liked Ezann Management better. (It was funnier when E (whose name is pretty normal, but cannot be divulged here) giggled non-stop for 5 minutes with mee sua dangling out of her mouth). Then yesterday a jet-setting ex-gf who’s in town tells me that there was a Hong Kong beauty pageant contestant who introduced herself as Devilly, sounds like Beverly, only spelt wrongly (now say that sentence with a Hongky accent).

Pigging out

iTunes is playing: Johnny Porter – Ry Cooder – Borderline



Pork rib soup (Bak Kut Teh) at Balestier Road.

Couldn’t catch a movie earlier, so I went out to grab a bite. A big one it turned out to be, with me eating a quarter of a pig, a bowl of rice and some salted vegetables at one of the many 24 hour eating houses along Pork Rib Alley (Balestier Road). My friend E had a more delicate bowl of pig liver mee sua. This particular restaurant (directly opposite the 7-11 and next to Martaban Road) is good. There’s the pork knuckle dish that melts in your mouth, and the handsome bloke in the greasy singlet rolled up over his bulging belly (waiter and mascot) comes by now and again to check if you’ve drunk your peppery pork soup. If you have, he’ll top the bowl up with another ladle.

It’s amazing how I still manage to keep my svelte figure.

Lately, there’s still been people suggesting Funky Hongky and Silly Singapore Names to me. E said I should read yesterday’s ST Life!, where it was announced that Ericia “I’m half-Chinese-half-rabbit” Lee’s younger sister had signed with Mediaworks as an Artits. Her name is Ezann(!). She studied psychology in Brisbane for a bit before deciding she liked Ezann Management better. (It was funnier when E (whose name is pretty normal, but cannot be divulged here) giggled non-stop for 5 minutes with mee sua dangling out of her mouth). Then yesterday a jet-setting ex-gf who’s in town tells me that there was a Hong Kong beauty pageant contestant who introduced herself as Devilly, sounds like Beverly, only spelt wrongly (now say that sentence with a Hongky accent).