Clubbed to Death

Naz doesn't club. Naught, nein, nary.

Nope.

Today though, I said that I'd step into the club if everyone (and there were a shitload of people) did the same, and I didn't have to pay. Of course, as fate would have it, someone knew someone and I got that free pass that saw me stumble into a mostly-empty place which might as well have been an alien planet to me.

I was with friends, though, who had made a Pact not to indulge in any alcoholic behavior (well, most of them, at least), and who were the types who would keep promises made (again, most of them, at least).

We were joined by some newer friends, mostly excited, excitable younglings who seemed eager to raise the toxicity of their bloodstream. Eventually, one of them went past the point of no return and got herself quite sloshed. In record time, too.

A long time ago, I wrote something about girls, clubs, drinking, and how the three don't make for a very good combination, all things considered. That upset some people enough for me to take it down, not an everyday event, but maybe I'll revive it soon.

Probably the thing that annoys me the most, irritates me to no end, physically disgusts me is the guy that lurks around these excited girls waiting for one of them to get so hammered she is inebriated enough to not realize exactly who is around her at all times, but still in possession of the required mental capacity to stand and continue dancing.

This is when the afore-mentioned lurker swoops in for the save, chivalrously extending his trembling hands to the little girl's body whenever she looks like she is about to lose her footing. Or even when she isn't.

Sure, this happens all the time, you cry. Clubs are like that. Takes two hands to clap.

Doesn't change the fact that I have lost all respect for some people now, and those of you who have been paying attention know what that entails.

An Epiphany

Taking the train today, I was struck by a startling realization of what is perhaps the single most beneficial thing that driving offers over taking advantage of the public transport services in Singapore. No, it isn't avoiding the rush and crush of the busy crowd during peak periods. No, it isn't having to continually top up that little card as fares rise every few months. It isn't even being able to do without rude strangers and smelly mystery-men.

Instead, what I found, much to my chagrin, was that while on the train or bus, one will invariably stumble upon a girl/woman/thing with a false sense of hotness.

I'm not even talking about the standard bimbotic, prototypical walking make-up dispensers that parade themselves around random corridors like Singapore's Next (only?) Top Model. I'm referring to the females (and that's a stretch) who seem to consider themselves sex bombs, when they look more like they've been hit by a bomb.

Today was a prime example.

Strolling into the insanely empty train cabin, I noticed something out of the corner of my eye that must have blinded folks halfway to Malaysia. A large blob of colour, in skin tight jeans that did everything to highlight the rotundness of their owner's rear, standing with an expression that would have put royalty to shame. And this is from me, who has been told multiple times that I walk with a swagger.

If whales wore denim and excessive mascara, I would have thought one had beached in Kembangan, but oh no, the worst was still to come.

Enduring the sight all the way to where I eventually alighted, I was in for a shock. As if it wasn't bad enough trying to stare fixedly at a point that left her/it out of my peripheral vision (i.e. the floor), when I staggered out of those whooshing sliding doors that irritate me so, I was horrified to find that she was somehow in front of me and walking in the same direction!

Look down, look down, I told myself, and the advice seemed sensible enough, until I met with the contraption that left me wanting to gouge my eyes out with a belt buckle.

Escalator.

Turns out, Little Miss Whale was wearing a neon pink THONG.

How ludicrously and shockingly disgusting, yet expected, from someone whose folds could hide their spare change and whose foundation could probably shield them from nuclear fallout. As I contemplated what would happen if she fell backwards onto me (I have never done up a will, you see), the escalator reached its summit and the little pink strap was blissfully hidden from view again.

Come to think of it right now, I wonder how the thong was even visible. Wouldn't it have sunk into one of the... creases?

I went on with my day, which included watching District 9 (which is awesome) and sitting around with friends who played some acoustic music (also awesome), and all was forgotten.

Until I was on the ride home and saw a Chinese Mat.

Oh my.

Falling

Tired, that's what's been running through my mind the past 48 hours or so, since Tuesday. A disgustingly long session of Winning Eleven was fun, but wasn't ideal in preparing for an overnight stint bordered by emotional farewells.

Sure, there were tears. Sure, it was sad. No real unexpected drama though, even if some had expected or encouraged it.

Couple of weeks to school, another few months which will be interesting, to say the least, with so many important people gone.

Uplifting!

I never liked any of the Ice Age or Shrek movies after the first one. I thought Finding Nemo was distinctly average, and that the slew of other modern animated films (other than Toy Story and Monsters Inc) were passable, at best.

I just got back from Up, however, and wow.

Someone I watched it with said she cried within the first ten minutes, and while I didn't need a Kleenex, I have to agree that there are portions of the film which are both charming and heartwrenching at the same time. It isn't so much an emotional roller-coaster as it is a gentle stroll around the range of feelings what an amazing film ought to evoke.

The comedy is often top-notch too, far funnier than the majority of traditional films released in recent memory. The characters are very Pixarish, and all of them grow on you quickly and you begin to love them after their first few scenes.

Story-wise, it's a far-fetched, fantastic tale of a man's quest to keep a promise made to a loved one, and how he overcomes the various random obstacles placed before him. The plot flows smoothly, allowing each character to be introduced and developed in every way.

The soundtrack lends a great deal to the generally light-hearted feel of the movie, and it reminds me, strikingly, of the first two Terminator movies and how there really is only one actual "song", and the key and tempo of it greatly alters its mood and effect, to a great extent. The music here does a fantastic job in leading the audience down that path from delight to despair to desperation to depression to delirium. Amazing stuff.

Of course, the cynic in me questions some of the logic in the film, like how certain devices could ever function and the sheer physics of a helium-powered building making its way across continents. I'll suspend such critique, however, not because it's "just a cartoon", but because it's just so bloody good.

I caught Up in all its 3D glory, and I have to say, though, that's really the only negative thing I have to take away from the movie. The effect of it being in 3D wasn't really fantastic, and some people around me took off the cumbersome goggles (and goggles are a prominent part of the movie, on and off screen) and simply watched it as it is. Sure, the first time you see the little kid plodding across the street, you are wowed by how it all looks, but then the rest of the movie doesn't seem to make use of the effect too greatly.

All in all, I highly recommend Up to anyone for any occasion. Taking someone out on a first date, another date, a random movie outing with friends or family, alone or in a crowd, I can almost guarantee you'll enjoy it.

Two tips, though. Tissues if you feel you might need it, and pass on the 3D option if you're unsure.

Public Relationships

I've always liked the name Jenny. Really, truly. But the past six weeks or so has befouled the name to such an extent that it will take a really dramatic shift for me to look at the name again with any positivity.

As some may reember, I tend to critique certain educators that I have been unfortunate enough to suffer through rather harshly. There was the inspiration behind Comic Relief, the one who was petitioned against, a cross-eyed Enron lawyer, the drooling mother of Bowser and a few others. Add Jenny to the list.

Sure, she's all smiles and yes, I understand that English may not be her native tongue but -

Wait. Wait just one minute.

Is that fricking Mandarin I see on my frickin slides that I am studying for my exam in little over twelve hours? I was unaware that a course in Public Relations, hosted by an American University in Singapore, would have course material in a language that the students hardly understand! This is ridiculous.

It's bad enough that she takes ages to barrel her way through a single chapter - hindered, no doubt, by her insistence on breaking into Chinese narratives as and when she feels like it - and that her sense of logic is questionable, at best when dealing with matters of her own design, but now I am staring at "notes" which I can't understand even if I wanted to?

Here's the typical exerpt from one of her classes:

"So yesh, de Pee-Are orgazashens speng millings of doh lahs oh nowah public meedya and evry day we see and a here messages becausah you canna pay for Pee Are only you can pray for Pee Are ah ha ha ha. Wo ching chiau Hu way ren du Taiwan de Hong Kong pu may lau ren ta gu xin Democratic Model han shong lay."

And she moves on. I usually step out after the first line in a dialect I don't understand.

How the fuck does Democratic model fit in anywhere?

I've had to deal with this for over a month now, and there really has been little to raise my spirits during this period, though I do admit that the course has brought me closer to a few people I barely spoke to before.

One of the few things that had got me even a little smiley was someone Ive been talking to alot lately, but not recently. Yeah. Kinda weird to be in this situation, realy, and to be honest I have no idea what's going on. A lost, noobish, amateur.

Realised how long it's been since I had a proper phone conversation that didn't end in frustration, though it looks like that end is on the cards again. Ah well, I guess I was right. Everyone got excited over nothing.

Now, I just need to learn Mandarin overnight.

Controlled Alternative Delete

It's been a long while since I put away the things, small and large that used to remind me of times gone by. But lately I've come to realise that everytime I look around me, I still notice that they're not there, and it makes no difference whatsoever. And today I tossed away one of the first and oldest of the things, though admittedly it is in a state befitting a test sample in some biochemical weapon facility.

Looking through my battered laptop, I realised today that I still have a (digital) ton of such things, so I went about deleting them. Was alot harder than I expected, to be honest. Ever watched Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind? Probably my second favorite Jim Carrey movie ever (Truman Show is #1). It was like that, midway through I started to doubt myself, if I really wanted them gone. But by then I had gone too far and it was all I could do to just finish up.

I did find a few things which brought a small smile to me and at least one other though.

I need to study, but I'm not. Not nearly.

Backup Friends and More

I had a really nice and long conversation with someone I've never talked to for that long today. Actually not the first time in recent memory that's happened, and for that I'm quite thankful.

She did, however, recount to me the story of how one of her friends told her off for treating her like a "backup", and that coupled with an earlier question and joking accusation got me thinking.

In a few weeks, many people close and dear to me will be jetting off, and there's a chance I won't see some of them, at elast, for maybe six months. Yes, yes, Skype and the like exist, but you all know it's different. I know it's different. Will everything be different?

The person asked me how and why I (relatively) recently became to chummy with certain people who've been around alot longer than we've been buddies, and I of course gave the obvious answer, but then nothing is really ever that obvious and simple, is it?

I don't quite know.

Then there's the matter of the little thing that's got everyone around me excited, though I bet they're overreacting, and that the little plans and stuff won't come to fruition.

Pessimistic? Maybe. I try to think it's being realistic. And not idealistic. I have no idea what I'm doing most the time. Too little, too much?

Long ride home today, but had good company for the first part, where I learnt what a small world we live in.

Lady & The Tramp

I realise I've never watched the entire show, actually. Maybe that will change soon? Maybe. Exams, meh.