Time to me now is a big factor. There’s so many things to be done that I wish the cuckoo bird will come out of its housing 48 times a day. But please reset it back to 24 when I’m away from home.

The clash with Hari Raya doesn’t make things any better. Now I wanna be a Pokemon and learn the ‘Teleport’ skill - to be able to move like lightning and shout like thunder. I wonder if Pikachu went through the same training regime that I am right now.

My dad had the cheek to ask me the same question as before when we all had came to the agreement that we’ll not raise it up for the time being. For the time being doesn’t mean 2 weeks man, c’mon. Even more cheekier was the apt timing when I am mentally and physically drained a little.

I thought my time off will be MINE. But *snap snap* reality check, I’m still the “head of the family”, the son and the only able-bodied male specie available. Sigh? Neigh.

I’m not complaining, just lamenting.

It’s 9.34pm and I’m already feeling damn weary. It must’ve been those early wake-up calls for sahur these past few days. Damn man.

2 weeks, or more likely 17 days, is all that it takes

for gigantic insurance companies to melt down…
for me to miss the F1 fever which I think is way too over-rated…
to decrease that Hari Raya mood in me…
for Man Utd to struggle at the start of the season (again)…
to make me wear my jeans like a hip-hop guy…
to see someone from fall from cloud nine to ground zero…

My soiled clothes smelt sour, as testified by my sister’s nose. And Mum said I can only start washing tomorrow.

It’s only 3 more fucking days to Hari Raya, can you believe it? My table top should have kuih-kuih already but it still looked the same from 2 weeks back. The curtains have remained in their sedia position for a record timing but their counterparts - the cushion covers - have managed to camouflage themselves with the wooden rattan surroundings with their new brown, yellow, orange uniform.

Coming from a country that has a high possibility of rain-shine-rain-shine-rain-shine within an hour, it suddenly became foreign to me that the pattern changed to shine-shine-shine-shine-shine-shine-rain. What’s up man!

I’ve never toasted to countdowns all these while but they soon become inevitable when they are your REAL source of motivation. Digging deep down to climb back up and move on is the toughest challenge I encountered thus far.

Are there any other big or hot news that I’ve missed out?

I’m counting down, really. ’cause I’m excited for I’m anxious, scared for I’m uncertain but I gotta keep myself composed.

Just like many other people who enlisted before me, catching up with people close to heart has never been much more enjoyable. My dear cousins, member-member lepak, poly friends and close friends.

But all these HAD to be cramped within the 10 days time frame from the day Babe touched down in Singapore till the day I will be shipped off to Tekong. Grrr.

But it worth the time, money and travel. From Seah Im Food Centre to Haig Road to Le Caire to Miss Clarity Cafe to Max Brenner, to Kampong Glam Cafe… the different faces that I see all brought wide smiles to my face.

And Babe? The late night catch up session at Al-Ameen, the trip down to Discovery Centre that detoured the Army Museum short of the long list that I had penned down for ‘Places to go when you come back from Penang’ but I’m just glad that I got to see you back before you embark on another project.

Oh gawd I was really thinking how I survived growing my hair all long (and brown). When I saw my tresses (chey chey tresses or what) being detached from its roots and onto the white but unvirgin piece of cloth draped over my body, I was paying my last respects for the all living things that have been seeking solace on my scalp since god knows when.

Wow that’s a long and probably a grammatically correct sentence.

So yes, don’t bother typing my URL for the next 2 weeks ’cause I’m not putting any posts on timestamp. Go enjoy your post POP days, make your bf/gf happier or work extra hours for your boss.

BMT-oh!

I love life when it surprises me in little ways.

Like how when I went to an optician near my place to get my spectacles done, I found out that the optician uncle is actually a lecturer in SP’s Optometry course. While he went on to talk how awful the food in FC2 is, I reminisced my own past in the institution with a smile.

Like how when I went to get a lock from a shop in my neighbourhood, the shop uncle told me that his son has just POP-ed. The transaction was quick, the sale was simple but his last words left my heart warm.

“Good luck ah for your NS!”

Both had rendered their service to the nation a long time ago. Both have seen their sons go through the same compulsory phase. So it’s no surprise to me that both were unison in their views towards NS…

“Now very good already! Like chalet! Not like last time… got 3-tonne pick us up. Now take boat ah! Last time the food, wah buey tahan ah! But now they ask outside people come cook for you. You all very lucky already ah…”

Thank you ah Uncles!

Oh how I’d love to know more of my neighbourhood’s store owners. The old-timers especially.

And here is Part II of my mini-movie-review-of-movies-that-I’ve-watched. I really wish I could watch a whole lot more but I would rot if I were to face my PC screen the entire day.

First off, (You Don’t Mess With The) Zohan…

Frankly, it was funny because Adam Sandler wasn’t Adam Sandler. ’cause I only found myself laughing over his thick-accented sentences which he apparently got from Khaustralia. You know the country that has khangharoos? Yeah, that one.

Other gimmicks includes his inhumane acts of swimming like a dolphin, taking on multiple armed contacts with no weapons… it seemed to me like he wanna be the Jackie Chan of the West.

And if there was to be a hidden message in the movie, it would be “Guys, treasure your dick. ’cause entertainment comes in different ages and sizes.”

I was pretty surprised that day included politics in the movie too, highlighting the tension between Israel and Palestine. And just like any other B-list movie, there ought to be a love story and a sexy hot babe. Sex scenes not included.

Well Zohan, you can continue to cut people’s khair but I don’t really fancy a Middle-Eastern Adam Sandler. Bring back my old Adam Sandler to me, to me!

You wanna go ask the usher for his/her number? 

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