Household applicants

Been very busy, so I’m relying on a cell of operatives to gather information, useful and not, for this blog.

One of my operatives in Chinatown tells me the Chinese New Year decorations there includes a giant rooster sitting on some giant eggs amidst the recycled Christmas lighting. Rooster sitting on eggs leh. “If this isn’t indicative of the state of the Singaporean male, I don’t know what is”, my operative adds.

Another operative reports the following conversation heard on a train. (Not overheard. Heard. Singaporeans, we talk very LOUDLY):

Eh, any shop got applicants sale or not ah?

What applicants? What shop?

Neh? Like Best Denki, Courts all that?

What applicants?

Neh? Like kettle, microwave all that? Household applicants lah!

Orh. Dunno. See newspaper lah.

My well-trained operative adhered to the rule of non-intervention and resisted the urge to correct the conversation, allowing himself only to mutter, ‘Buy mattress free handphone, dear.

And Chinese New Year buy new applicants appliances one meh? My family just insists on mandarin oranges, tidbits and new cloats.


Get this monkey off my back. I look stupid enough as it is.

iTunes’ party shuffle is playing a copy of: These Are Days – 10,000 Maniacs – These Are Days [Single], of which I have the original CD and therefore didn’t steal music.

All Sundays should be like this

The sun was out, the weather was great, kids were playing cricket (yes!) and chucking a rugby ball around, and believe it or not, this was at the SMU field, Singapore. Not Paine Reserve, Kingsford/Randwick, Sydney.

So the kids and their parents spoke with Aussie accents, but what the heck, the sun was out and the weather was great.

Our game of touch footy was a shambles, though. Five blokes bailed on us, and so we had to run ourselves ragged again playing three on three till we got bored. Then we played three on three with full contact instead of touch, though self-preservation took precedence and we more or less tickled each other to the ground instead of tackling.

Fun and sunburn was had and enjoyed by all present, and we’re planning to make this a weekly (every Sunday) event. Same place, 5pm. If you’re interested (boys and girls) please apply here.

Right now I am deathly busy, but very glad I had a bit of a run on the paddock yesterday. Doesn’t get any better than this, I don’t think.

Sunday footy
Footy at Paine Reserve, Kingsford/Randwick, 1999

iTunes’ party shuffle is playing a copy of: I Don’t Like Mondays – The Boomtown Rats – Great Songs of Indifference: The Best of Bob Geldof & the Boomtown Rats, of which I have the original CD and therefore didn’t steal music.

With a little help from my wing woman

Mr Miyagi can catch fly with chopstick, Mr Miyagi don’t need help with the chicks. But for those who do, here’s an interesting dating service called a ‘dating mistress’ or a ‘wing woman’.

From the Sydney Morning Herald (Registration may be required):

Keen to meet women, yet sick of rejection by those who have heard every line in the book, a handful of Australian men have decided to conquer the dating challenge.

Men have long roped in their mates to win over the ladies, with varied success. But for those who don’t have female accomplices to do their dating dirty work, assistance is available for a fee of $60 an hour on weekends.

By day, Jessica studies teaching at the University of Technology, Sydney. By night, she moonlights as a dating mistress, or wing woman….

…The 22-year-old says the service is simply cashing in on an existing social trend. “I have some male friends where the guy says to the girl[friend], ‘Hook me up with that girl’ or ‘Bring your girlfriends’,” she said.

Jessica will meet clients in a bar and get them to point out girls they are interested in. Then she will approach the girl and strike up a conversation….

…The man appears and Jessica introduces them, pretending they are friends. But she shrugs off suggestions that such behaviour is deceptive.

I dunno, might only work for Australians.


Could you chat her up for me, please? Yep, the one waving at me.

iTunes’ party shuffle is playing a copy of: Nella Fantasia – Il Divo – Il Divo, of which I have the original CD and therefore didn’t steal music.

Summer (day) of sport

How hot was it today? Blue sky, no clouds, and car upholstery hot enough to cure you of piles once and for all.

I got a call from the boys asking to go down to the SMU field to kick some footy for a bit, in preparation for Sunday’s long-awaited touch footy game we’ve organised. It’s been a while since we’ve played, and I don’t think we’ve had a decent game since when we were all in Sydney.

In Sydney, almost every weekend was a sporting weekend, rain, shine or hail. If you were really sick or injured (from playing sport), you’d stay home and watch sport. If not, you’d be out there, playing all four codes of football (rugby union, rugby league, aussie rules and soccer), sometimes in the same afternoon.

But we’re not in Sydney anymore, and it’s hard trying to organize a game of footy, because unlike games like soccer where everyone plays soccer because it’s a simple game, touch footy and its variants require a little bit more grey matter, and most people don’t quite want to work their noodle during leisure time.

Today, there were three of us, and a schoolboy who asked nicely if he could join us, and we ran ourselves ragged after half an hour. I am aching everywhere. But I have a very, very slight tan and I’m happier for it.

So I’m hoping its blue skies, no clouds on Sunday once more. Gotta get as many games in before I grow too old to run around on the field.


Not too foul if you were sick or injured and laid up at home

iTunes’ party shuffle is playing a copy of: Someone To Watch Over Me/I Got Rhythm – Stephane Grappelli – 85 And Still Swinging, of which I have the original CD and therefore didn’t steal music.