Thursday, August 31, 2006

Singapore Dreaming.

2 words.


then watch it again. Then buy tickets for your parents to watch it. Trust me. It's worth every single cent.

I am going to make it the first movie I watched in the last 3 months or so.

Tuesday, August 29, 2006

Quick Updates

Alright guys, fast one, seeing how I haven't posted in a while.

Thanks Gilbert for tickets to the Singapore Dreaming premiere. It's a bloody fantastic movie, and I think every Singaporean gotta watch it. Yes, those of you who hate Singapore and those of you who love it.

Kicking butt in the INVEST Summit 2006.

Suddenly a surge of overseas friends are coming back to Singapore. Tonight is Norway, and October, my mate who teaches English in the day and is transformed into one of the hippest electronic funk DJs this side of the world Michael Munoz is hitting Singapore. So far, this year, Canada, Philippines, Mexico and Norway have been represented. This is officially "Visit Edmund year 2006".

Had several brainwaves over the last week or so. Don't really have time to go through all of them now, but a lot of them occured when I was watching Singapore Dreaming.

Joined the XL Foundation Lifetime members, now that I'm connected to the rest of Asia, it's time to get everyone down and party.

I can now play the first half of the introduction of Hotel California moderately well. I am now dreading to proceed to the 2nd half.

Been slow in reading. But I have been fairly consistent in reading "The Greatest Secret in the World." I start scroll 4 next Monday.

The boys at New Asia Bar finally got irritated enough at me to give me my own membership card. Half a year's supply of Mentos has been rewarded. I now officially sign in 2 people, and unofficially sign in 15.

Helping my mate out with his pub at Boat Quay.

New Axiom - Maximum benefits, to the MOST people, in the LEAST time.

That's all for now folks.

Kamil if you're reading this, Nigeria and US of A are NOT represented yet.

Monday, August 21, 2006

More Cravings

One more place to add to the list.


Booya Ale, Jessi, Cecy and America! I do not believe there is such a thing as good tequila but I am always willing to be proven wrong.

Thursday, August 17, 2006

What's Love Got to Do With It

Everything. Thanks Jelin for sending the story.

Strongest Dad in the World From Sports Illustrated, By Rick Reilly

Dick Hoyt, strongest dad in the world.

Eighty-five times he's pushed his disabled son, Rick, 26.2 miles in marathons.

Eight times he's not only pushed him 26.2 miles in a wheelchair but also towed him 2.4 miles in a dinghy while swimming and pedaled him 112 miles in a seat on the
handlebars -- all in the same day.

Dick's also pulled him cross-country skiing, taken him on his back mountain climbing and once hauled him across the U.S. on a bike. Makes taking your son bowling look a little lame.... right? And what has Rick done for his father? Not much--except save his life.

This love story began in Winchester, Mass., 43 years ago, when Rick was strangled by the umbilical cord during birth, leaving him brain-damaged and unable to control his limbs. `He'll be a vegetable the rest of his life!''

Dick says doctors told him and his wife, Judy, when Rick was nine months old. ``Put him in an institution.'' But the Hoyts weren't buying it. They noticed the way Rick's eyes followed them around the room. When Rick was 11 they took him to he engineering department at Tufts University and asked if there was anything to help the boy communicate.

"No way," Dick says he was told. `There's nothing going on in his brain.'' "Tell him a joke,'' Dick countered. They did. Rick laughed. Turns out a lot was going on in his brain. Rigged up with a computer that allowed him to control the cursor by touching a switch with the side of his head, Rick was finally able to communicate. First words? "Go Bruins!"

And after a high school classmate was paralyzed in an accident and the school organized a charity run for him, Rick pecked out, "Dad, I want to do that." Yeah, right. How was Dick, a self-described "porker" who never ran more than a mile at a time, going to push his son five miles? Still, he tried.

"Then it was me who was handicapped," Dick says. "I was sore for two weeks." That day
changed Rick's life. "Dad," he typed, "when we were running, it felt like I wasn't disabled anymore!"

And that sentence changed Dick's life.

He became obsessed with living Rick that feeling as often as he could.

He got into such rd-belly shape that he and Rick were ready to try the 1979 Boston Marathon. "No way," Dick was told by a race official. The Hoyts weren't quite a single runner, and they weren't quite a wheelchair competitor. For a few years Dick and Rick just joined the massive ld and ran anyway, then they found a way to get into the race physically: In 1983 they ran another marathon so fast they made the qualifying time for Boston the following year.

Then somebody said, "Hey, Dick, why not a triathlon?" How's a guy who never learned to swim and hadn't ridden a bike since he was six going to haul his 110-pound kid through a triathlon?

Still, Dick tried.

Now they've done 212 triathlons, including four grueling 15-hour Ironmans in Hawaii. It must be a buzz kill to be a 25-year-old stud getting passed by an old guy towing a grown man in a dinghy, don't you think? Hey, Dick, why not see how you'd do on your
own? "No way," he says. Dick does it purely for "the awesome feeling" he gets seeing Rick with a cantaloupe smile as they run, swim and ride together. This year, at ages 65 and 43, Dick and Rick finished their 24th Boston Marathon, in 5,083rd place out of more than 20,000 starters.

Their best time? Two hours, 40 minutes in 1992 -- only 35 minutes off the world record, which, in case you don't keep track of these things, happens to be held by a guy who was not pushing another man in a wheelchair at the time.

"No question about it," Rick types. "My dad is the Father of the Century."

And Dick got something else out of all this too. Two years ago he had a mild heart attack during a race. Doctors found that one of his arteries was 95% clogged. "If you
hadn't been in such great shape," one doctor told him, "you probably would've died 15 years ago." So, in a way, Dick and Rick saved each other's life.

Rick, who has his own apartment (he gets home care) and works in Boston, and Dick, retired from the military and living in Holland, Mass., always find ways to be together. They give speeches around the country and compete in some backbreaking race every weekend, including this Father's Day.

That night, Rick will buy his dad dinner, but the thing he really wants to give him is a gift he can never buy. "The thing I'd most like," Rick types, "is that my dad sit in the chair and I push him once."

Now THIS puts an entirely new slant to all the "My daddy can beat your daddy" jokes that you see around all the time.

Tuesday, August 15, 2006

Somebody Had to Do It

This is what happens when George Lucas and the rest of film crew plays the movie 245 times over for editting.

Now, for Elmo.

The Ultimate Add-On to your IPod

Ladies, you're gonna love this one.

And oh, DD, this MIGHT be the closest a machine can come to substituting for real flesh and blood, especially if there's Barry White in the playlist.


I crave intellectual stimulation.

I feel a need to grow, physically, mentally and emotionally. I sense an impatience in me to devour new experience and learn from them, personally or vicariously through other people.

The hunger beckons, and I cannot wait to rush till the end of the year, where I finally will be able to shake of the shackles of normality and embrace the flood of new sensations and thoughts that travelling gives me.

Where shall I go?
1. Hong Kong, this time for leisure?
2. Australia (finally) and see if Ozzie parties are really as wild as friends claim
3. Myanmmar, to visit those who I still miss at the back of my mind
4. South Africa, and get smashed at the vineyards
5. Full Moon Party (But I have reservist. On the other hand, deferrment is but a letter away)

Ah, decisions, decisions... Wanderlust is engulfing my soul.

Saturday, August 12, 2006

On the flip side

After talking about KTVs for men, I'm sure there is the female equivalent as well.

Lonely housewives suffering from attention deficiency HAVE to have an outlet SOMEWHERE.

Thing is, women are just better at keeping things under wraps.

And so, the search continues...

Thursday, August 10, 2006

I Hate KTVs

Yes. You heard it right. This from a person that actually works in the financial industry, and used to be in a brewery.

I. Hate. KTVs.

You know the ones I mean.

I refuse to believe that I am so unattractive that I actually have to PAY somebody to sit with me and talk to me.

Fuck. I should be billing the ladies for sitting next to them and giving them a wonderful change from the fat, balding, off-key jerkoffs that they usually meet.

And how much for a bottle of booze? Are you 15 different kinds of stupid? Do they have any idea how much that costs in other parts of the world?

Yeah well, you can have your way with them you say. Big. Fat. Hairy. Deal. Tell me I can't do that exact same thing at a club, and the women there are even more attractive, and potentially more willing, by FAR.

Well ok, lemme tell you the ONE plus point about KTVs though. They have a good sound system, and you don't have to worry about time, so you can play at being a pop star for as long as you like, while your comrades get down and dirty and get their egos (and other parts of their anatomy stroked).

Come to think of it, I think that's the only reason why the guys go to KTVs. To get their egos stroked. Come on. Wanna get off, head to Geylang. $50. Max. I think.

Why the FUCK would you pay 700% to open a crap bottle of booze, keep your shirt on and suffer your ears to the indignity of hearing your friends sing?

Cos there is a possibility, however minute, that the gal might reject you? You might be shooting fish in a 330ml mineral water bottle with a 12 guage shotgun. But hey, you hunt and you score right? Whatever gets you off, Tarzan.

Me, I'm gonna head over to New Asia. With the government throwing tax-payer dollars all over the night sky, silly of me not to at least catch ONE decent display eh?

Wednesday, August 09, 2006


You know how most folks in the world love fireworks?

Fact of the matter is, that looking at fireworks do not make me smile. Oh, the sense of kinship with 237 people blocking the road in downtown Singapore is good, and it IS an excuse to get out of the office, but fireworks by themselves?

They actually make me reflect.

I remember the reason why I believe people think fireworks are beautiful.

Because they are so intermittent.

Because they are rare, and they exist only in an instant of bright colours, and fade away into the memories of the people that watch them.

I remember that life is almost the same way. That the life of humans, like fireworks, flash across the canvas of eternity like a blazing brushstroke, and then is gone.

It is almost ironic, but the same thing that ends life is the thing that makes it precious, beautiful.

Because there is a danger of it ending at any time, therefore we treasure life. We cling onto every moment and try to make the best of it.

We hope, that when we die, we go with a blaze of glory, and then live on in the memories of the people who remember us.

So the next time you see fireworks, raise a drink to yourself. Be thankful for the time you have, and reflect a little, and think a little about yourself as well.

Maybe that's why the end of days is not revealed to us. That way, we get so much more done, that lying around and waiting.

Smart move, God. Cheers.

Monday, August 07, 2006

Wake Up for Singapore

I was happily sleeping in my bed on Sunday morning. Yeah I know, I have to get my ass outta bed and off to church, but that can come later. It's not often that I get to sleep in, so every chance to do so, I want to make FULL use of it.

And then, out of the blue. "Good morning everyone, and welcome to our National Day celebration." 23 different swear words in 4 different languages flash through my head in an instant. WTF?!

Maybe it'll go away. Maybe it's a really really bad dream.

It's not. When the national anthem started playing, I knew that there's no way my own subconscious is THAT sick. PLUS, I never knew all the words.

I gave up any hope of catching another 5 minutes of sleep and stumbled to the bathroom.

My parents were delightfully surprised that they didn't have to kick me outta bed. No, a sudden surge of goddam patriotism (not necessarily mine) did the job for them. Fuckers.

Happy birthday Singapore. Bah humbug.