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Monday, September 29, 2008
My neighbour's kidBiwi told me the other day that I should write a story. The idea comes to me that very same day and I wrote it but I only got around to editing it today, so here it is. My neighbour's kid, his name is Andy. A lot of my friends' boyfriend is called that too; for some reason I never really understand. The disney girl's boyfriend is Andy, and she calls him Andy Pandy. Andy the kid is no Andy Pandy. Although by the ring of it, he certainly qualifies. Andy Pandy sounds like a cute name. And Andy the kid is handsome. Like all handsome boys, he seems hell-bent on destroying that bit of perfection that is his face (because his manner, I assure you is not). The boy likes to run, and when he runs, he runs with abandon. Into doors, gates, walls, floors even. Every time he comes, he would sustain an injury or two and we would have to hang our head low in front of his amah, apologising and trying to come up with explanations. For the bumps in the head and the scrapes (no blood yet so far, thank you lord). It's not that we're playing very violent games. It's just that he turns almost every mild games into a rather violent one. When we play football, he would send the ball soaring, sending me into fits worrying about the soon-to-be-shortened lifespan of the lamps, paintings and the cuckoo clock. Oh and he likes 7 o'clock because that's the time the bird comes out. When is it gonna come out again? At 8 Okay. Later I'll come back here. Oh...hmmm We would play soft toys, because after all, soft toys are a tad home insurance friendlier than balls although come to think of it now, it's not so health insurance friendly. Unlike a ball, the darned thing doesn't roll which means we don't kick it around which means we have to pick it up which means bending down. A lot of times. Oh we tried something mild before. Like coloring. I drew a zoo once. With rabbits. Monkeys. And there's an Andy too, in the middle of it. Can you help me color? but- Help me color What color? The monkey is brown, the eye is black Ah okay. What about the sun, can I have a pink sun? No, sun is yellow but- Sun is yellow Ah okay. I'm gonna color you now I'm not blue but- I'M NOT BLUE Ah okay okay. I think I can put yellow over it...you can be green... I understand then that coloring, to him is a little like homework. You don't abandon homework. Even when you find something more interesting to do. Even when you don't do it yourself. And with homework you must have a certain measure of dignity. You don't present an orange rabbit. Or purple grass. You certainly don't present a blue version of yourself in it; no matter how grand you look in blue. And with homework, you write your name on it. So Andy, write your name here ANDY TAN QI so you've learnt how to spell in school, huh? Do they make you memorize the multiplication table too? Stop crossing it, you've got little space left to put your name Do you want another paper? You can write your name there and staple it to this one Stop talking to me! ooo okayyy you need to concentrate real hard huh I'm really tired. And I'm sure Chocky (that's what our little bear is called) is pretty bruised too for the day. It's 8 o'clock now. The bird's gonna come out now, you wanna come see? Yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaa Is it gonna come out again at 9? Nope, after 8 o'clock it goes to bed Is it gonna come out again tomorrow? Nah, tomorrow is its rest day When is it gonna come out again then? Next week Next week? Yeah, I'm sure next week it's gonna come out, when it's feeling pretty fresh. Grinning Goat at 9/29/2008 04:13:00 AM pontificated | {buzzz out} Sunday, September 28, 2008
Totoross And if you can't read, she said after "rose, that's what i remember of you.. those eyes" Original - TOTORO  Ripoff - TOTOROSS 
Grinning Goat at 9/28/2008 09:38:00 PM pontificated | {buzzz out} Thursday, September 25, 2008
Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse> Can't stop reading GOOD OMENS. One of the finest books ever written. In fact, I think I'm gonna go buy it. This is something I can read over and over again. I hope they make it into movies. It'd beat Stardust and Beowulf hands down. Grinning Goat at 9/25/2008 02:23:00 AM pontificated | {buzzz out}
GRRR: there's something wrong withmy space bar buttons sometimes it doesn't space right R: I'm thinking maybe because I gunbound too much. Gunbound requiresme to press the space bar often CK: HAHAHA OK. just thought the keys were too tiny for yr fingers ah rose R: nah more like the keyboards weretoo cheap for my fingers huahahaha It was 10 bucks by the way. The cheapest there was. And lookee 'ere I got missing alphabets and a faulty space bar. Grinning Goat at 9/25/2008 01:32:00 AM pontificated | {buzzz out}
BoohoodeehoozChikun lost her phone again. R: you should really radioactive tag yr phone chikun, then you can geiger counter the entire NUH and find the bloody person who did it Chikun: I may die early too rose Grinning Goat at 9/25/2008 01:03:00 AM pontificated | {buzzz out} Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Natural talentA long time ago, he was never mean. Cruelty was something that happens on television (and where is this television? in a far away land somewhere where they have a hill with giant letters that spell Hollywood) the way cancer was something that happens to other people, once he knows the meaning of that word anyway (that despite what they say, cancer really is not a swear word at all). And one day, in a span of an unspecified time period (unspecified in the way that boys grow into man, some boys are slower, some faster but ultimately you can never ask the mother because however much time it takes, she's going to say that it's not that long) people are being mean to him. And in that first instance, he was well... speechless. A deafening silence. And he doesn't like not having said his piece. If he were to be a little more honest, it wasn't so much about not having said his piece as it was about having said his piece belatedly. Like in the middle of the night. When the battle has been lost. To his pillows, which don't make good audience substitutes. So he makes it a point that he learns to be mean. So that he can strut and say that he can and will be mean if he has to. Oh and he can alright. He even discovers shortly that he doesn't have to try very hard to. In fact, it makes one think if maybe men are simply equipped since birth with the necessary apparatus to and that all it takes is for someone to switch it on. It was so effortless that now, it takes more tenacity not to be mean. It was a little like how you have to smash a malfunctioning radio to stop listening to the maddening hum of the static (to keep yourself sane). But in a world where men are getting more and more stubborn with each passing day, it's hard to unmold the dried clay. When ropes get tangled,you can untangle it, but when you're angry, you can't unangry yourself (hell, the word doesn't even exist). If we were to plot the graphs of strain versus nasty words (that's strain on the y-axis and nasty words on the x-axis for you), you'll discover the fundamental reasons men go to wars. The graph is exponential. As the number of nasty words exchanged increases, strain increases at an exponential rate. Which means to say that it spirals out of control. But it's not like it's unstoppable. It very much is. Like a forest (I initially spelled this as forrest until the spelling checks underlined it;clearly blogspot dictionary doesn't watch Tom Hanks) fire. You can extinguish it in the end, but not before it engulfs a good part of the And there's nothing that Heaven or Hell can do. Because, here's a nice illustration for you: Anathema Device: But you can't leave it just like that, think of all things you could do! Good things. Adam Young (the Antichrist): (suspiciously) like what? Anathema Device: Well... you could bring all the whales back, to start with Adam Young: An' that'd stop people killing them, would it? At this point, Anathema Device hesitated. It would've been nice to say yes. Adam: An' if people do start killing them, what would you ask me to do about 'em? Adam: No. I reckon,I'm getting the hang of this now. Once I start messing around like that, there'd be no stoppin' it. Seems to me, the only sensible thing is for people to know that if they kill a whale, they've got a dead whale. :: That if you burn the forest, you've got a barren land. That if you make a mountain out of a molehill, you will get exactly that: a mountain. Sometimes the mountain can turn back into a molehill (if it can fit back into your face), but if you're not lucky sometimes they're just going to remain as mountains. The problem is, he wants the mountain to turn back into a molehill. Except that he doesn't want to concede that he was wrong. Neither do anybody else.(Everybody just hates to be wrong). So for peace to reign, he must be right. So must other people. Who says that for you to be right, other people must be wrong? And who says that for other people to be right, you must be wrong? Everybody must be right all the time. That way they're happy. And the mountain will turn back into a molehill, given time. Just wait n see. It doesn't harm to stretch your face a bit. To make room, you understand. Grinning Goat at 9/24/2008 10:53:00 PM pontificated | {buzzz out} Friday, September 19, 2008
Let's not kill ourselves over milkI think I've summoned up sufficient rage to write this post now. I'm talking about those milk out of big dairy companies in China that is laced with melamine. 8.4 milligrams of melamine per kilogram of milk. Melamine is a freaking plastic for God's sake. I used to have a plate made of melamine (they don't break easily, so kids love em). And well now they're practically letting people drink PLATES. First they add more water. I have nothing against dilute milk. All those non-fat milk tastes like diluted milk anyway. And then they add melamine, just so the nitrogen (protein that is) content looks higher. Which to me sounds like such a DUMB reason for eating plastic. It's not like you can fool your body into thinking that plates are meat. The key of course isn't to fool the body as much as it is to fool people to buy the milk. And it works. Until they got caught. And to think that two of China's BIGGEST dairies are actually involved. We can't even trust big companies now? (not that we should anyway) When these people do it, do they think o my kids might drink this milk too? or do they whisper to their wives telling them not to buy the milk their own company sells? perhaps even abstain from milk entirely, take vitamin D pills (o maybe better not because karma might dictate that someone else will lace your vitamin D pills too- justice can't get any more poetic than that). I don't know. To me it sounds like the same thing. Lacing the milk you sell to your own countrymen, that's like killing your own isn't it? (Not that you should kill non-countrymen but I guess non-countrymen would be more wary of you and therefore not so gullible; which is good for them). And what these stupid people fail to predict, besides their involvement in possibly the poisoning of 6000 babies is this: I look at the milk I drink, open my fridge quickly to find that my Meiji milk is made in THAILAND, and continue drinking. And swore never to buy any China food products. I value my life too much? I don't have to live that long but I want to live long enough. I'd die over a lamb chop sure, but I'm so not going to be dead over a plate disguised as milk. So let's not kill ourselves over milk. Eat well. Avoid cheap food. Cheap food cheapens your life. Grinning Goat at 9/19/2008 11:09:00 PM pontificated | {buzzz out} Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Forward BackwardI'm starting to see that glint of light at the end of the tunnel. But even with the light shining at me from the other end, I still find it hard to type here. Mainly because my cheap keyboard has lost almost all its letters again. Talk about a puzzle of alphabets. At least I remember where A is. It's beside S. Now I just have to find S. And so despite my self-proclaimed bravado to change the layout of this website, I couldn't bear to let my html illiteracy destroys the webpage I have so painstakingly built for...hmm (I forgot. You can see from my archive list). So. I made another. Cramping my style says: you know what's weird Dex says: hmm? Cramping my style says: when the page looks good on IE it looks UGLY on firefox and when it looks pretty on firefox, it looks UGLY on IE Guess you cant have the best both worlds after all eh (because these two worlds are so far apart you need to take a spaceship to go from one to another. I knowwwwwwww.... It horrifies me too that there's such a big gulf between Firefox and IE. You'd think the difference lies only in that curled up orange foxy thing on the shortcut button) Dex says: lol i don't see why it wud look ugly [ Dex always spells would as WUD, even in his yet to be finished future book - his version of the God Called Mak ] Cramping my style says: It does, you go open it in IE. The right column becomes all squashed. On Firefox it looks grand on IE it looks like shite Dex says: wow that is weird Cramping my style says: I KNOWWWWW Dex says: Awwwww T_T calm down ross xD I'm sure u can figure it out Cramping my style says: Actually I don't think I can. I'm prepared to live with it looking good on Firefox. Screw all IE users hauahahaha Grinning Goat at 9/17/2008 04:13:00 AM pontificated | {buzzz out} Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Vanity for vanity's sakeI'm having a headache trying to figure out how to customise this webpage for viewing on firefox. So far, there's no light at the end of the tunnel yet. As a firefox user myself, this is shameful because my webpage looks downright UGLY on firefox. P.S for you vain people, try looking at it on IE. I have major artistic sense, you'll see. Grinning Goat at 9/16/2008 11:22:00 PM pontificated | {buzzz out}
CHOWTMGood Omens is SUCH A GOOD LAUGH I'm telling you. Excellent scripting for the bored, namely me. On the Friday chapter, some part goes like this: Two years of Newtrition investment and researched had produced CHOWTM. CHOWTM contained spun, plaited, and woven protein molecules, capped and coded, carefully designed to be ignored by even the most ravenous digestive tract enzymes: no-call sweeteners; mineral oils replacing vegetable oils; fibrous materials, colorings, and flavorings. It didn't matter how much you ate, you lost weight. And hair. And skin tone. And, if you ate enough of it long enough, vital signs. Grinning Goat at 9/16/2008 11:05:00 PM pontificated | {buzzz out} Wednesday, September 10, 2008
And I just had to askCK: why, what's wrong with curly hair hmm, you got something against it? R: yessss, perms are for AUNTIESSS HAHAHAHA CK: I have curly hair R: did you perm it? CK: WHAT. You've known me for how long and you HAD to ask? CK: sadddd. Poor hair is feeling hurt, I think it will straighten itself out tonight R: Hahahaha good whatttt free rebonding! Grinning Goat at 9/10/2008 01:32:00 AM pontificated | {buzzz out} Monday, September 08, 2008
Que Sera SeraDenny Crane: Like you having to prove yourself in court. We're hard wired. We just don't wanna be seen as losers. Alan Shore: I think we live our lives so afraid to be seen as weak that we die perhaps without ever having been seen at all. Denny, do you ever think that when you die people will never have truly known you? Denny Crane: I don't want 'em to know me. I want them to believe my version. Besides, you know me. That's enough. Alan Shore: Lorraine thinks until I get professional help I will forever be disabled when it comes to forging a truly intimate relationship with somebody. Who needs one? Denny Crane: I'll tell you something. You got one with me. You have met somebody who likes you for who you are. And cigars. Scotch. That's a true relationship! And..! I love you. Bonus points! Alan Shore: So I'm alright? Denny Crane: Yeah. We both are. That why we like to sit out here. It reminds us: we're alright Today dex and I beat up some cocky bastard, after which the idiot left and dex asked me. Dex: Don't you think that we get cocky sometimes? R: yes (of course we do) Dex: but we know the limit right? It's not about the limit. It's never about the limit. I guess for me, and this is what I told him, when you win you have bragging rights. So when some cocky bastards come along, we don't punish him for being cocky, we punish him by making him lose so that along with it, he loses his bragging rights. And so far, nobody's thick-skinned enough to continue being so cocky after losing plenty of times. Grinning Goat at 9/08/2008 03:37:00 AM pontificated | {buzzz out} Saturday, September 06, 2008
The God called MakIf you'd lived as long as he did, you'd be bored. But he wasn't. Not really. He would wander over streets and highways at night. Sometimes laughing over drivers who get drunk behind the wheel. You'd be surprised at how many of them there are. He used to keep track of the numbers, back when he still thinks immortality isn't worth the lack of taste buds, but not anymore. He still wonders how foie gras would taste like though. But he has never liked the french, so he seeks comfort in the assumption that it probably doesn't taste all that marvelously. He was called Mak, really. But sometimes the westerners couldn't pronounce it right, and so he becomes a Mark. It doesn't matter to him, really. After all, Jesus was probably black to the blacks and so on. Names are in the mouth of the bespoken, he'd chuckle. Sense of humor; he doesn't really get it- the humans are always so proud of it. Mak was usually too busy to write anything. But if he were to write a book, there's got to be some porn in it, he'd say. He used to find everyone's obsession and fascination with body parts amusing. Carnal delight was mostly a concept for the mere mortals. He understands, of course their absolute need to procreate; after all being the earthly beings that they are, they are probably perpetually consumed with this inevitable desire to leave a legacy. But now, he was just curious. He wonders sometimes if sex tastes like foie gras. He didn't use to be so busy back when the industrial revolution hasn't started. Now people can get mirrors all over the place and the thing with humans is, what they've got they almost always breaks. And when they do, he will be summoned to deliver his presents to them. Sometimes these humans will fall down the stairs, sometimes they will read a health magazine and drink the wrong medicine (what was it that some human writer calls it - die of a misprint?). Sometimes they choke on a bone. Drive into trees. Being struck by lightning (although this is somewhat a rarity because he hates to owe favors to the God of lightning and the man is always such an old grouch). He thinks that sometimes, the humans can sense him. Not how he looks like unfortunately, just his presence. Looking at all these humans -all pink-skinned and wrinkly , he does not really think that they're made in his image at all really. He vows to clear this misconception one day. On bad days, he was one to hold a grudge. He would brood when some ignoramus refer to his presence as 'mere superstition'. He is comfortable with being feared, and superstition does sound like the correct word - it was ominous and all-consuming- to describe him, but while he may be a 'superstition' incarnate, he was never mere superstition. And you shouldn't really scoff on mere superstitions. Because he may just accidentally send the presents meant for other people to you. If you only pay attention, you should see it happening all the time. It'll be too late to make amends then. The wrath that comes with his grudge is what you ignorantly call self-fulfilling prophecy. One might imagine that with his foul temper, he might just snap one day and come to make his appearance. Didn't somebody do that before? Mak loves making his grand entrance, it's the other single best thing he loves besides looking at his image in the mirror. He would fulfill his jobs and serve his duties faithfully of course (he always does) but first things first. He would eat plenty of foie gras (he may even choose to be born in France, for the hell of it) and have lots of sex. Maybe even try one of those sense of humors the humans are always bragging about. Grinning Goat at 9/06/2008 01:22:00 AM pontificated | {buzzz out} Thursday, September 04, 2008
Facebook facebookI was checking my email. I got an email that informed me that a certain friend of mine just threw Michael Phelps at me in facebook. This is exactly why facebook exists, so people can throw Michael Phelps at me. Grinning Goat at 9/04/2008 01:13:00 AM pontificated | {buzzz out}
December 1963 (Oh what a night)by Frankie Valli and the Four season. I ABSOLUTELY LOVEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE this version. The 1975 remix, with the drum solo in front. 2000 is the new 1960s doncha know? To find good music, I think the odds would be higher if one looks back, rather than forward. Grinning Goat at 9/04/2008 01:11:00 AM pontificated | {buzzz out} Wednesday, September 03, 2008
Virusin Smoke and Mirror by Neil Gaiman This is one story I can truly identify with. Thought I'd share it with you folks. There was a computer game, I was given it, one of my friends gave it to me, he was playing it, he said, it's brilliant, you should play it, and I did, and it was. I copied it off the disk he gave me for anyone, I wanted everyone to play it. Everyone should have this much fun. I sent it upline to bulletin boards but mainly I got it out to all of my friends. (Personal contact. That's the way it was given to me.) My friends were like me: some were scared of viruses, someone gave you a game on a disk, next week or Friday the 13th it reformatted your hard disk or corrupted your memory. But this one never did that. This was dead safe. Even my friends who didn't like computers started to play: as you get better the game gets harder; maybe you never win but you can get pretty good. I'm pretty good. Of course I have to spend a lot of time playing it. So do my friends. And their friends. And just the people you meet, you can see them, walking down the old motorways or standing in queues, away from their computers, but they play it in their heads in the meantime, combining shapes, puzzling over contours, putting colors next to colors, twisting signals to new screen sections, listening to the music. Sure, people think about it, but mainly they play it. My record's eighteen hours at a stretch. 40012 points, 3 fanfares. You play it through the tears, the aching wrist, the hunger, after a while it goes away. All of it except the game, I should say. There's no room in my mind anymore; no room for other things. We copied the game, give it to our friends. It transcends language, occupies our time, sometimes I think I'm forgetting things these days. I wonder what happened to the TV. There used to be TV. I wonder what will happen when I run out of canned food. I wonder where will all the people went. And then I realize how, if I'm fast enough, I can put a black square next to a red line, mirror it and rotate them so they both disappear, clearing the left block for a white bubble to rise... (So they both disappear.) And when the power goes off for good then I Will play it in my head until I die. --------------------------------------------------------------- I just find it so amusing I can't stop reading it and re-reading it and re-reading it again. It was said, the game on the disk was dead safe; doesn't have any virus in it. That's because they don't need to carry one. The game itself is the virus, in every aspect of the word. It gives us a tingling sensation, invades our senses, breaches that fine boundary that separates hobbies from addiction. And then the game also turns us into a walking virus, perpetuating the game, ensuring its survival. Grinning Goat at 9/03/2008 09:55:00 PM pontificated | {buzzz out} The bid of the century The neighbour's kid. He doesn't come here very often. Probably once or twice a week; I think his amah forbids him to, for fear of disturbing us. And when he does come here to play and it's time to go home, he will bargain. Amah: Andy let's go homeee Andy: (looks reluctant, hugging the door) I still want to playyy Amah: five minutes ahhh Andy: (whine) tennnnnnnnnnn Amah: okay 10 minutes ahhh And after a while the amah is familiar with this 10 minutes routine and decided to allow him to come home in 10 minutes and saved him the bargain. Amah: Andy, come home in ten minutes ok Andy: (whine) elevennnnnnnnnnn Well I guess when you bargain it's never for much. You drop the price of the sandal from 6 dollars to 5.50. One minute is the time it takes for him to walk from the living room to the door. Like I said, a bargain is never for much. Grinning Goat at 9/03/2008 07:02:00 PM pontificated | {buzzz out} Out of the childish things we did Pein was mad at me. Well, I was mad at him too. I decided to make peace today. R: (nudge) Pein: (nudge) R: you're still up? or was that your macro talking? I've watched wall-E by the way, it was gooddddd Pein: wall-e has too much class for you, shame on you for watching it R: hahaha you're still mad huh. Somehow although it has too much class for me, they let me in. What I lack in class I must have made up in other things Pein: im not mad never was Which was so clearly a lie. Anyway I called for a truce. and then he said Ok I forgive you. I didn't recall apologizing but that works too, I guess. Grinning Goat at 9/03/2008 03:15:00 PM pontificated | {buzzz out} |
 "Stupid is as stupid does" Forrest Gump
Archieves for the-nothing to dos
SNEAK PEEK |
