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Someday, people will want to compose epic ballads about
my life. When they finally get down to it, I figured a blog like this one would make good reference material.


Perhaps, in the extravagance
of youth, we give away our
devotions easily and all but
arbitrarily, on the mistaken
assumption that we’ll always
have more to give."
- Michael Cunningham




Bituwin - template
theunknownsoul - screencaps

banners and icon by me

Wednesday, September 30, 2009

Because i felt the need to post again.

My favourite song from one of my favourite movies.



I could listen to Rufus Wainwright sing the business section of Newsweek. Which would hopefully explain why I like this next song so much. Also, as it was requested by Shona, I have posted it here for all of you to have a listen:



I love the BBC. I think that is an understatement.



And to prove David Mitchell's point



Those nutty Russians.

Friday, September 25, 2009

Today Tricia and I met a pervert on the MRT train.

Well, he wasn't a hardcore groper, but still, eww. (I shan't go into the nasty details.)

I just thought everyone ought to reminded that yes, such degenerates do exist in our ever-so-civil society.

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

We just got swallowed up
You know I didn't forget you
We just got swallowed up

We just got swallowed up
But you know that I didn't forget you
We just got swallowed up
By the whole damn world

Thursday, September 17, 2009

Specially for the innocent of mind: Have some Old English Riddles

Highlight to see the answers.
Try not to think dirty.

“I'm a strange creature, for I satisfy women,
a service to the neighbors! No one suffers
at my hands except for my slayer.
I grow very tall, erect in a bed,
I'm hairy underneath. From time to time
a beautiful girl, the brave daughter
of some churl, dares to hold me,
grips my russet skin, robs me of my head
and puts me in the pantry. At once that girl
with plaited hair who has confined me
remembers our meeting. Her eye moistens.”


Answer: An onion

“A strange thing hangs by a man's thigh,
hidden by a garment. It has a hole
in its head. It is stiff and strong
and its firm bearing reaps a reward.
When the man hitches his clothing high
above his knee, he wants the head
of that hanging thing to poke the old hole
of fitting length it has often filled before.”


Answer: A key

“I'm strong and pointed. Shuddering I die,
a violent release. For my reputable master
I'll plunge below the plimsoll line,
well and truly engineer an opening.
A desperate man stands behind me and develops me
himself; he carries a cloth. A southerner sometimes
helps me out of a hot spot (a real hole),
sometimes he gets me into a fix
and forces me. Say what I am called.”


Answer: A penis (So I lied. This one's not clean at all.)


THE EXAMS ARE OVER!


WE CAME. WE SAW. WE KICKED ASS.


And now I'm bored out of my skull.

WHAT EVER SHALL I DO WITH MYSELF?

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

In the aftermath of today's History EYA, I thought it might be appropriate to post that Cold War break-up fic I've been raving about to Tricia. However, its rating and content might offend some people.

It's nothing sordid, really. (I almost cried halfway through, yes it's THAT (for lack of better word) good.)

Should I?

Thursday, September 10, 2009

If you had any self-preservation instincts you'd read the below right this instant.

Crumbs: half of Britons injured by their biscuits on coffee break, survey reveals
More than half of all Britons have been injured by biscuits.


Extract:
"It found almost a third of adults said they had been splashed or scalded by hot drinks while dunking or trying to fish the remnants of a collapsed digestive.

It also revealed 28 per cent had choked on crumbs while one in 10 had broken a tooth or filling biting a biscuit.

More unusually, three per cent had poked themselves in the eye with a biscuit and seven per cent bitten by a pet or "other wild animal" trying to get their biscuit.
"

Remember, it's for your own protection.

Wednesday, September 9, 2009

So lately I've been a little obsessed with Eurovision. Honestly I find the concept quite funny, for some inexplicable reason.

Here's my favourite entry this year. It's from a country I didn't even know existed before this week, Azerbaijan. The lyrics are unhelpfully cheesy (those of you with cheese allergies, consider yourselves warned!), but overall the song is impossibly catchy with its distinct Mediterranean flavour and not as gay as some of the other entries.

Press play. You know you want to. Or maybe you didn't know you wanted to, but now you do.

Monday, September 7, 2009

Last week I found out while browsing through mrbrown.com (yes i know, srs internetz lag), about the existence of a chinese drama which aired awhile back and was deceptively titled, in english, 'Table of Glory'. Given the name, you'd think it'd been sponsored by a furniture mega-store. But when the many furniture design fetishists tuned in to the first episode to catch a glimpse of this consecrated timbered typification, they were sorely disappointed by the sight of a middle-aged man crouched over a table-tennis table in what appeared to be a high school table-tennis team uniform. Creepy.

To be fair to Mediacorp, the english titles of their productions are usually only a little less weird than the bite-sized, fried fish patties my maid cooked for dinner this evening.

And no, I don't think any salesperson at Harvey Norman, Courts, or IKEA would be capable of or even agree to sell you one. But don't give up hope just yet. You could always try e-mailing their production set manager.