Butterfly Does Halloween

Like all great calender dates, Halloween is another excuse to kiss whiskey bottles and lick tequila shot. For me, its a faint excuse to doll myself up.

For the past week I've been contemplating what to engage Halloween as and I settled on "I'm going to be a transvestite". It's a celebrated agreement amongst us. Everyone is dying to see me in mini skirt, high boots, laces and a whip to spank myself for misbehaving. Unfortunately no..

While everyone was overdosed on Progressions the night before, I was busy shopping for groceries to prepare for the house party we planned on before heading out for Gatecrasher at MoS. Yes, I cook. I whip out a mean serving of Tiramisu, and for those lucky enough to savour it, that was your ONLY guilty indulgent for the night.

8.40pm: I get to my apartment with Faith and we start preparing the tables.
8.50pm: Faith starts painting my nails.
9.00pm: Germ and Shawna arrive with drinks and chicken wings and starts complaining about me starting dinner withous them.
9.10pm: Germ complains that my writing has too many bombastic words that reading it with a dictionary is beginning to tire. As promised, this entire post will be as simple on the tongue as a bedtime story.
9.17pm: Painted nails gives me difficulty with utensils. I start growling at the sushi.
9.30pm: Pappy arrives with Mroy and Marilyn.
9.40pm: Shawna starts doing my makeup.

I've been told countless times that I'm blessed with good female features. I have, as the girls put it, good ideal finger nails, huge doll eyes and eyelids perfect for eyeliner. To add to this, I'm bitchy, perpetually vain and I have the tendency to check myself out on anything reflective.

The initial product from Shawna left me scarred with feminity..

Shawna: "Maybe I should do the tail like those Indian eyes.."
Me: "I'm not hearing things that I want to hear.. that does not sound cool at all."
Germ: "Aiyah, he wants the Japanese goth look."
Me: "Yes! Finally someone is saying key words."

Faith comes in and takes over with the worst possible introduction. "

Faith: "I seldom wear eyeliner, I don't really know how to do this but it should be simple.."

15 Mins of hilarity at my expense, this is the outcome.



I was going for the whole Gothic Japanese Glam rock get-up, but I ended with a cross between that and transvestite overdosed on eyeliner giving $10 blowjobs.

12.15am: We wrap up the house party and the 11 of us made our way down to MoS.

The best thing my makeup gave me was envy. Most of the girls I met loved my eyeliner. Gerrie introduced some hot chick.

Rita: "I love your eyeliner!"
Me: "I love it too."
Rita: "So who are you supposed to be?"
Me: "I'm a Shiseido cover girl."

And she introduced something even better. Martini Bianco with 7 Up. If Heaven had poison, it'll be this. Reznor tells me that this is a sleeper drink, its the RS6 of cocktails. Before you know it, you'll be hunched over the seat giving the toilet seat cover that well deserved Halloween blowjob.

The last time I got so excited over a drink was Zouk's Blowjob and that Absinthe at Buddha Bar in Perth. The green fairy was absolutely wicked, it tasted like the urine of the Devil, it burned my throat like a wildfire, but once I digested it, I wanted more.

The music was the only thing better than laughing at people dressing up to look like absolute idiots. The guys randomly kept egging me on to dance and I kept pissing them off with my diva-esque replies,

Me: "Sorry, too much dancing is going to smudge my eyeliner. And I have to constantly look pretty. You'd never know when unsuspecting Caucasian males are going to hit on me."

Random people with costumes we met.

1. BubbleBoy - This Caucasian guy came wrapped in the bubble wrap.

Him: "Which way to the toilet?"
Me: "That way. Can I pop the bubbles?
Him: "Knock yourself out."

I start running my fingers to find the unpopped ones.

Him: "You may one to try the back. Everyone's been abusing the front bubbles."

2. A couple in doctor and nurses outfit.

Me: "Doctor! Doctor! I need a check up.”
Girl: “Erm, I'm not a doctor. I’m supposed to be a scientist.”

Ok, even I make mistakes sometimes.

3. Whales in costume.

Me: “People, when you see Whale’s in costume, you know two things. Those costumes are handmade from materials from 10 other costumes sewn together and these people don’t need costumes to be scary.”

They point out to me that the Whales are not in costume.

Me: “They made the wrong turn then. MacDonald’s is down the other side.”

4. Dudes in Roman Soldier Outfits.

I mistakenly thought they were Marvin the Martians. If any of you reading happened to be them. You guys are idiots.

5. The guy in Black robes

Germ gave him a verbal lashing when he tried to squeeze in between us.

Germ: "WHY DO YOU HAVE TO WALK BETWEEN US?! GO AROUND US!!"

He got so scared he turned around and went up the stairs instead. She’s so feisty. I like that..

6. Super Mario.

This guy was absolutely hilarious. The whole group of us starting humming the Super Mario Bros tune and he started doing the Mario hop to it. Some guy shouted, “Give that man a Pizza”.

I nearly peed my pants with all this nostalgia.

7. Guy who got scared of me.

I went to pee at the urinal and when this guy standing beside me saw me, he changed to peeing two urinals down and made sure his back faced me. I didn’t realize why till I saw myself in the mirror again.

I was so pretty.

Reznor: “You really love Halloween right? Getting a chance to look like a girl.”
Me : “I call it, ‘Bringing Out’ the woman in me.”

The rest of the guys who heard about my plan to come dressed as a Ladyboy was very disappointed at my reservation of dignity. My lack of shamelessness, my cartilage of pride and dignity was all that kept me from fully indulging in my Halloween skit.

Me: “I can’t fucking shuffle in mini skirt and you guys know how I sit. The last thing I need is people staring between my legs from the bar across.”

Ash: “I have a spare skirt in the car.”
Me: “My boxers are longer than your skirts.”

I stayed through 5 hours of solid trance, danced against fatigue, ignored a Malay guy who tried to pick a fight with me and all I was rewarded with was a stubbed toe and smudged eyeliner.

Don't you just love Halloween?

You Know You're Gay When..

Despite what most medical and sociological studies have shown, Homosexuality is actually a disease that can hit you out of nowhere, like cholera, love and pregnancy.

The realization usually comes after the erosion of self-denial and most people don’t find true sexuality until they turn 25. For you, desperately seek to find your calling, bow down and thank me for this easy guide.

1. A girl stays over and you don’t have sex.

You may think it’s a gentlemanly gesture of respect, but in actuality, you are gay. First ask yourself. Did you,

a. make a valiant effort to grope her boobs at least once?
b. attempted to pitch the idea of making out?
c. tried to kiss her?
d. bring back a Whale.

If you tried any of the first three options, then chances are you’re still dominantly heterosexual. Bringing a girl back to your place is 70% of the battle won and if you managed to fuck up at that point, you must really suck.

If you raised your hand on option D, abstinence from sex is the only humane course of action when dealing with Whales. I commend you on that. This conversely means that unless you brought the Whale home to hang as a punching bag, there should really be no reason to have them over.

2. Spend thousands on a girl just to talk.

My virgin visit to Cleopetra KTV was all I needed to ascertain that rich old men and generally gay. The only other people, who would tip that much without peeling off any clothing or copping a feel, are idiots.

3. You eat candy floss

Candy floss is laced with estrogen and there is nothing more pussifying then to eat it.

4. You use my writings as pickup lines

I’m writing this only because I’ve been tipped off that some jackass is using my stories and the things I say on this girl. Apparently, this guy is ripping my words verbatim on MSN to hit on her (who just happens to be a reader). I’m now asked to conduct a public shaming.

Dear Copycat,

The next time you try to impress a girl, try to paraphrase my words at least. Ripping it in entirety from context is akin to leaving your fly open and your dick out. Its convenient, but you’re gonna get clipped.

Look, I don’t really give a fuck if you replicate my stories, but credit where credit is due. You don’t see me taking credit for creating post-its do you? Imitation is the best form of flattery, but unless you’re paying me homage in the form a bronze statue on your porch, go rip of Bill Gates.

Why the fuck would you even trying stealing material and pass it off as your own? Do you have any idea how many people read this shit? Do you even know that I have people telling me to go read MY own blog?

The person you happen to be hitting on is closely related to Reznor so I’ll be forth coming on this, YOU HAVE NO CHANCE. You are currently the biggest joke that is circulating amongst us this weekend. I’d be laughing if my appendix didn’t hurt so much. I bet your appendix hurts too, since you mimic everything I say and do.

If you have to depend on me to make you look cool, you are gay.

5. You drive a Kelisa

It's faggotry on wheels.

6. You use more than one product to wash your face.

In my world, facial wash is facial wash. Anything with foam can be used to wash the face. If you have good complexion, you can use toothpaste to wash your face and you’ll still be fine. I’m testament to this.

7. You shuffle..

I’m addicted to shuffling which most of you should know by now. When I’m at a club and there’s good trance music, I become temporarily asexual. Since the Melbourne Shuffle is anything but provocative, dancing with partners is almost uncommon. It’s an individualistic expression of rhythm since no two people shuffle exactly the same.

When I shuffle, I generally do not like people to hold me. Even if they are hot. I wouldn’t even allow MissSeptember, Minori or anyone whom I’ve been smitten at to keep me from dancing.

It’s a worrisome issue when our conversations in a club are void of mention of chicks.

NormalMale: “Dudes the girls today are damn hot!”
Us: “Fuck!! The music is damn good!”
NormalMale: “Check that girl out! Her boobs are popping out!”
Us: “Too crowded here.. can’t shuffle.”

8. You listen to Elton John songs

Gays listen to gay icons.

9. You drink Diet Coke

If you take everything with less sugar and less fat, you are gay. You maybe doing this because you are diabetic but it’s really because you are gay. If you are a real man, nothing will come in between you and sugar. If you have to die, so be it.

Real men aren’t afraid of dying.

I always take my coffee with 3 tablespoon of sugar. I cross roads blindly cos cars cannot hurt me and I’ll amputate my arm if a cockroach touches me. All men should freak out at the sight of roaches cos they are the meanest sons of bitches in this world.

I once locked myself in my room cos there was a fly roach around the house. I did the only manly thing possible and called my maid from the room phone to come up and destroy it. If you are a man, you will get people to do your dirty work.

10. You are prettier than me.

They usually are.

11. Your favourite words include “Sale”.

Most people’s favourite word is “free”. If you are heterosexual, the accompanying word to this is usually “sex”. If you are a Whale, then it’s always “Food”. But when you are gay, the next word is always “shoes”.

12. You meet every girl’s criteria in a man.

The template for women always go like this..

Girl: “Someone smart, funny, good-looking, dress well, sensitive and caring.”

If you fit ALL that, you are gay.

13. You frequent the gym.

Men use words like “bench-press”, “steroids” and “pumping iron” and the visit gyms just because girls there have lesser clothes on.

Gays use words like “calories”, “my arms are fat” and “pilates” and they visit the gym cos other men have lesser clothes on.

14. Turn down sex for ManHunt.

Shame on you. The only program that sex can hold for is Wrestling.

15. You chose to smuggle drugs up your ass.

If you smiled to this, you are also gay.


If you think this is written to be deprecate homosexuality, it isn't. So don't send me your Gay Pride day speeches. Some of this are inside jokes because I'm guilty of a number of this.

Perhaps..

The One That Almost Won

“So pretty, yet so concealed.. like it’s owner.”

She whispered as she ran her fingers over my tattoo. The equivocating nymph. She teases me. Alluring, yet so distant. Corporeal, yet so much impermanence her thin fingers invited.

Angels are bright, yet the brightest fell. I felt as if Shakespeare penned it for me. It’s been a while since I’ve met anyone that quivered me on my pedestal. And there she was, lying a breath away from a blowjob and yet an eternity from my possession.

I was waiting for something. Something, I’ve long forgotten and yet the very basis of happiness. Reciprocation.

And she was Me, subjugating me to the very game I created. The very domain where I lord over. The evil to which I’ve long abandoned. Emotions.

She talked, yet none of her words reached me. A superfluous spew of trivialities that lacked the very vulgarities I now wished to hear.

I was irate.

I’ve been a tool of revenge for spiteful girlfriends, I’ve been booty called and I’ve been a bi sexual’s experiment. But this bothered me only because someone else was playing it better, colder.

Is this what is feels like to be normal? People with emotions must really hate living.

“How did someone so pretty lose his heart?”

Twirling her hair with her fingers.

Me: “Cos he met someone… and she went away with it.”

Her thin lips pressed against each other, almost hiding a smile.

Then she got changed and I felt blue-balled, even after all that sex. Nothing. I would have been just another conquest. A bragging right. A talking point.

No. The Butterfly isn’t in love. Or remotely close for Cupid’s proximity. I’m hardly even attached to her. I’m pissed at my slip up, my hominal leak of emotions. Perhaps I was finally crumbling..

Then one hook up 2 days later and a check up with Red certified that I was back in full health.

Butterfly Returns

If clubbing is all about looking good and getting people to buy you drinks, I'm making it my staple weekly diet. Wait.. it already is.

I had like shit loads of free drinks tonite without even prostituting myself. Yes, the guys reading this who know me OH SO WELL, I swear I didn't even pitch the idea of juice to anyone. People are getting smarter, they know who deserves to be rewarded.

1. I had 4 different people giving me free drinks. The only thing from making this a Hollywood porn production is that the 4 who were smart enough, were GUYS.

I had 2 whiskey shots courtesy of some Indian dude, who absolutely loved the way I dance. I don't care if the drinks are spiked. Anything that is free is void of caution and deserves at least 4 glasses of my attention.

Naturally I played the "oh I can't take so much liqour" card and once he handed me the shot, I gulped it like Jap starlets to semen.

IndianMan: "Wow.. I said half half..."
Me: "What? Oh I didn't hear that."

Some other guy was so intrigued by my shuffle he kept urging me to dance.

Me: "It takes whisky to get me moving again."

A minute later, he comes back with a glass

He: "Will Vodka be ok?"

2. A group of Indonesian girls tried to hit on a slightly tipsy me.

Indo: "My friend here wants to know you."
Me: "She's the cutest you have?!"

They seemed very excited over my comment, cos one of them started screaming at me. I heard words like "FUCK YOU" and "Who do you think you are". I think she was pissed cos I didn't offer her my seat.

Not like I cared. None of them were anywhere near 'Fuckable' range, except for one but she was wearing some horrible looking denim berms that Levi's would have flipped in his grave over. Well,the only reason they actually came over was because I smiled at them, unintentionally.

3. I messed up the toilet cubicle and I blamed it on someone else.

MissSeptember called and I was trying to pull my zipper down and things just went wrong from there. Oh, and I spewed a little, onto the seat. This guy was outside waiting for the cubicle and I told him,

Me: "You DO NOT want to go in there. Some asshole messed it up."

He thanked me for the caution with a pat on the back. I couldn't stop giggling for being such a liar.

4. I saw an old nemesis. Kay, the crazy bitch. The one person who traumatized me so badly I stayed away from sex for 3 days.

We had a cordial exchange of words and I bailed shortly after cos her boobs looked like they shrank significantly.

If You Can't Dance

If good dancing is akin to being good in bed, then you’d better stock up on your rabbits, good lube and porn, ‘cos from what I see at clubs, your future partner is less likely to perform than midgets in a 100m sprint.

You’ve complained to your girl-friends before, about that guy next to you that is jumping around off beat and the ones that look like they just had their hips operated on.

I’d say about 80% of Singaporeans CAN’T dance. You can disagree with me, but you are wrong.

When I was in Taiwan, the people at the clubs made it look as if Hip Hop dancing was a compulsory curriculum in school, because everyone looked like they were auditioning for Missy Elliot's new music video. Here, you’d be thankful enough that they don’t fall off stage or jab you in the eye while flailing their arms in the air, hoping to catch the beat.

Here’s what you should NEVER do if you can't dance.

1. Form circles

If you can’t dance don’t even be on the dance floor, let alone form circles with your equally handicapped friends. It’s one thing if you are actually good, but when all of you suck, it just looks like a primal mating ritual. Unless the one in the middle is going to get gang banged, you are just wasting space. Just stick to your LAN games.

There are only 2 dances that should be allowed the authority to form circles; Break dancing and the Melbourne Shuffle. Everything else should be banned or unless I say so.

What really is the purpose of you forming circles? It’s a hallmark of social delusion. You can’t dance and your friends are cheering you on. What sick friends would do this to you?

2. Dance on the podiums

There was this girl who was so horribly bad she was so good at dancing entirely off beat. Which actually deserves some commendation, since consistently missing every beat is almost impossible if you have ears.

Every time I’m down at Zouk on Mambo nights, it never ceases to amaze me how people are still clinging on to the 90s. If you can’t dance and you try really hard, you will be laughed at.

Unless you are really hot, you should never even shuffle your feet if you can’t dance. Conversely, if you are hot, you can get away with anything, even bad dancing. Just remember to fling your bra into the crowd when you are done just so there’s something to appease an angry mob and you won’t get your ass whooped.

3. Dress the part you are not.

If you can’t decently move in sync with the music, then go to clubs wearing as casual as possible so that no one pays you any attention. This is paramount since you should be slitting your wrist quietly at a corner. Drop the caps, the bling blings and da’ attitude. The last thing we need is an Usher wannabe tap dancing to hard bass.

4. Draw Attention to yourself

Do not even utter a word, sneeze or stand near the bar. Occasional breathing is fine, so long as your presence disturbs no one. Slowly move into a small corner and stay there. If you don’t dance, there is no point in you being at the club. And if you can’t dance, your only reason to be there is to buy me drinks.


However, if you don’t have the flow, these are what you SHOULD do.

1. Make out.

Last night at MoS, this couple was practically fucking on the dance flooring. We stood there laughing as the guy was doing everything from grabbing her boobs to fingering her through her jeans. That was until the boucer broke up the show.

I don’t normally encourage such public display of desperation, neither would I usually allow any of my dates in a club to kiss me. Unless of cos I’ve made a visual confirmation that no one else with a 10m vicinity is worth my time. However, nothing beats watching couples tear into each other’s mouth. The inevitable necking and cupping just waives my depression from watching bad dancing.

You may suck at dancing, but as long as you’re replicating a venereal sideshow for my entertainment pleasure, it’s fine by me. It’s indecorous on the measure of club ethics, but salacity should never be bounded by codes of conduct. If you can’t dance, at least thrill me with your prurient exposition.

2. Dirty Dance.

Bad dancing is unacceptable, but bad dirty dancing isn’t. Just the other night I laughed my ass off watching this girl’s rendition of dirty dancing. I had a hard time wondering if she was legitimately masturbating or trying to kick a football.

She was trying to doing everything at once. Grope her boobs while flicking her hair and trying to stay in rhythm. If you threw plates at her, she might have juggled it while tying her shoe-laces. The only thing that exacerbated this lampoon on erotica was that if she had buns for arms, she’ll pass of as a hot dog.

As much as she was horrible, she was absolutely entertaining and the crowd of mainly blind Caucasians kept feeding her with enough encouragement to trade in self-respect. What do I do when there’s an ugly girl on stage? I cheer her on. The only thing better than me laughing at them, is EVERYONE else laughing.

3. The feet tap and head bob.

Practice it quietly first, somewhere no one is looking. If you can’t tap to the beat, you can forget about bobbing your head. These are the primarily basics to disguise your lack of aptitude to rule the dance floor. Tapping gives that nonchalance excuse for not dancing and if you actually do it well enough, other nerds might actually think you’re cool.

4. Drink A LOT

Since you can’t dance, might as well kill yourself. And what better way to do it than through your liver. Besides, drinking is a ruse to not dance since drunkards should never be 2m from a couch to fall back on.

Drinking is one way to impress people. When I was at the pinnacle of my drinking prowess, I scared the shit out of people from the way I drank. 1 year ago, I’d have taken 10 shots a minute each. I get snubbed at free flow bars and I’ll drink anyone broke. The most I drank in a night was in Adelaide and that was one night of madness I will never attempt to emulate again. The aftermath of it was a reputation I’d have pinned to my collar. I would be known by them as, “The one without a liver”.

6 months on and an obedience to the doctors words, I’ve drastically cut down on the juice. My mum nags at me, close friends constantly remind me and she pleads to me. I’m finally beginning to acknowledge the term ‘moderation’ as a legitimate word in the dictionary.

5. Strip

Need I say more? But only if you are a girl.

The Cialis Test Kit Story

Every once in awhile, we scorn the warnings that are thrown at us and our filter for potential hazard is set at, “I am an idiot”. Yes, sensibility and logic can sometimes elude even me; your Whale hating, stupidity laughing, nerd bashing antagonistic, virtuoso social critic.

I’m usually at my dumbest after a dose of that liver killing agent we all love, Whiskey. I’m also stupid in the morning and during an erection.

If you’ve never heard of Cialis, it’s because you don’t need it..yet. It’s the miracle drug, the medical equivalent of the blue super pill, Viagra. Only thing is that this one is more potent, or so I’ve heard. A 36Hr window period that will allow you to fuck like rabbits. It might have been a while since you saw it pass 5 inches, but now it's only a pill away.

While I was sat through a crash course on the effects and uses of this pill, only one theory was of concern and of substantial interest to debunk. Is getting drunk and having sex FINAL a simultaneous possibility?

Then, I was given the COOLEST birthday present, an erectile dysfunction test kit. I sat there gushing over the kiddish imprints, while browsing over the graphical illustrations on how to properly tape your dick.

Important Notes: (Found on test kit)

If you had sex right before using this test, you may not be able to have a sleep or morning erection on the same night or the next morning due to the natural refractory period after sex.

Like for most instructional aids, they have NO dictation over me. This was going to down the annals of virility. I was going to fuck the girl and then tape myself and wake up with the tape torn and prove that SEX and morning glories are communal habitants of a young healthy dick.

Nothing beats a girl knee infront of you fitting on an ED test tape. It’s almost like watching nuns sell dildos at the flea market. There was this subtle blend of irony and erotica that was screaming at me. All this while I counted sheep to keep myself flaccid. My self-restraint lasted under 5 mins before we found ourselves frolicking in bed.

The botched attempt to try out the kit proved two things. I’m heterosexual and I won't waste an erection.

And because I was semi drunk and losing an erection at the onslaught of an escalating fatigue level, I skipped foreplay almost entirely. I was piloted solely by the moment, a fervid combustion of bodies moving furtively across the room, ravelling over the bed maladroitly like amateurs.

Sex was passionate only for that temporal instance that is between the last under garment removed to the point of orgasm. It was a mutual consent between us that nothing, except sexual gratification would mold us. The trump card if any was sex, or the denial of it.

My anticipation lay in the post-script of this episode, when I’d finally be alone in bed again, when I’d finally properly try on the test kit. Now.. what was the warning again..
I knew it had something to do with taping the test tape too tightly..

Fuck it. I taped it the way I deemed fit and slept faster than I could spell Erectile Dysfunction. Worst.Idea.Ever.

I woke up the next morning with an irritable itch that was periodically stinging with pain on my member. FUCKING HELL, DID I JUST HIT JACKPOT? I sprang out of bed and ran for the toilet, half pulling my boxers off.

The tape was gone and in place of it were reddish lines. I had paper cut my dick with stupidity and you have NO idea how much hell this gave me. Not that it was very painful to begin with, but there was this accompanying itch that made it almost unbearable not to scratch, spank or rub it.

Now, the only thing that can top this, is if I told you about actually taking Cialis.

Why People Should Never Change

We all know how the world is a stage, cos Madonna said it. I was talking to a friend the other day and he was asking me some scenario questions, largely on relationships and I ACED them all.

1. Changing Apperances

It's one thing if you look better, lost weight or finally smarten up and decide to go under the knife. If I was dating you and you show a mark improvement on my radar, you will be rewarded with a really good fuck.

The thing about people in a relationship is that they tend to fall under a false sense of security, which usually has consequences like, 'weight gain' and 'less make-up'. These are contagious diseases, much like Cholera and Obesity (If you hang out with Whales, you will become one).

As responsible adults, we need to arrest this. This is simple. If your partner starts getting ugly or fat, beat them. They should have seen this coming. You need to put them in place and remind them that society has no place for semi-humans. They should never be taking you for granted and if they EVER pull that shit of not dolling up when their with you again, re-introduce them to the fist.

It's a real simple dichotomy. Say yes to all things beautiful, even if they are artificial. Reject anything that is ugly or if I tell you to. There should never be a grey area. If they refuse make-up, they'd better be pretty.

I've been in a relationship before so I know how girls just stop looking pretty when they have a man. The only way to get them painting their face again is if you constantly keep them paranoid. I go out, get picked up and I make sure she knows about it. Sure, they'll kick up a big fuss cos its all they ever do, but soon they'll be going to the market with eye-liner and enough powder on their face to make bread with.

MyFriend: "What if the girl you really love gets into an accident and she gets disfigured for life?"
Me: "If she loves me, she'll let me go."

2. "You fell in love with me"

I don't understand why people want their partners to change. It's like telling your mum you wanted a dog but you bought a chinchila. It only just shows your stupidity and obvious lack of foresight.

It’s real simple. DON’T impose any changes, unless it’s something absolutely detrimental to your relationship like huge moles, hairy armpits and fat asses. When I was still stupid enough to believe in commitment, the ex-gf used to incessantly swarm me with ridiculous requests.

Her constant expletives include, “Pay me more attention”, “stop gambling” and “wrestling is dumb”. I ignored her till she finally saluted my impertinence for change. Here’s how to make sure this shit never happens to you.

A. Make sure you are consistent. If you start out treating them with too much reverence, they are going to piss on you the moment you slip up. Always start slow. Rule of the tumb,

“If you open the car door for them today, they are going to expect you to wipe their ass tomorrow.”

B. If they make you give up one guilty indulgent, make sure you do the same to them. When I was badgered into relinquishing late nights and wrestling, I did the only matured response and made sure she served me breakfast in bed naked.

C. Praise sparingly. Don’t lie if you think that person looks like a Halloween make-over disaster. If you are a guy, details are your worse enemy. I know so cos I won’t remember what you wore 2 days back.

Refrain from using incriminating words like, “you look great today” cos there’s a chance it’ll blow into a “So I don’t look good on other days?”. Remember, less time spent on flippant trivialities means more time in the bedroom.

If they persist in arguing, warn them that more time spent on this will result in less time for foreplay. If you have to, violence is always the best way to get your point across. A good aim to the throat will shut them up.

If you break this industry standard, you’re going to have to pay homage everyday just to have silence. I pity you.

3. Changes are temporal.

If you’re smart enough to open a bottle cap, you should also be equipped enough to know the impermanence of change. So why bother?

The only time we need to arrest changes is if your partner looks like a stand in for Willy and them lying in bed reminds you of a seafood platter. If you have any self worth, you will dump them or spear them with a harpoon. Both if possible..

4. Change is a precursor for guilt.

Your partner changes overnight and you think it’s your Davidoff perfume? Only in Disneyland sweethearts. It’s because they’ve been pigging out behind your back.

Treat ALL sudden changes with skepticism and contempt. Do not hesitate to burn their hair. People make amends for every screw up they make, it’s a fact. You go on a date late, you offer to buy dinner. You accidentally fucked your neighbour’s dog, you buy them flowers or cufflinks. It’s how it all works.

To save your ass from a vase flung at you, DON’T change. Unless of cos, you failed to dodge that because Whales have mobility dysfunction, then you really need to re-think that buffet.

5. Changing is self-depreciating.

If you conform to changes, it only means you’re not good enough. Unless you’re 200 pounds of disgrace, there’s nothing you should be worried about. I’m rude, cold and heartless and people still love me. I do stupid things like over-sleeping on the MRT and getting a degree and I’m still loved.

Right, that’s because I’m a not a whale.

Change is only necessary if you’re moving from Pierre Cardin to Prada. Or from an A to a C cup or any other aesthetic upgrades.

The September Chronicles

There's one person I truly love..

It's beginning to be too much of a co-incidence. Exactly one year ago, someone came into my life. Someone that gave me a conscience. A year on, another person has come and gone, and I'm back to having some residual repercussions of this brief affair.

Emotions are evil. Like parsely and Spageddies' Tiramisu. We should never need to feel sad.

Nothing has changed too drastically for me. My poetic take on romance still remains the same.

The better you suck,
The harder I'll fuck.
And since you get the gist,
You fucking better not have Syphillis.

Yes, move over Shakespeare. MissSeptember has been a refreshing second wind, albeit the tedious long nights I have to accompany her, her constant nagging of me being a butterfly and the absolute attention I have to devote to her when she's within ear shot of hearing me say,

Me: "Fuck! That girl is HOT."

My last night with her was absolute drama. A fitting sypnosis even for the Oscars. I've seen enough Korean movies to know just how to angle a sob ending. Yes, I left her in tears. Like I usually do to almost everyone else.

Then it hit me.

My reluctance to contribute anything to a relationship other than my prick and tongue is not merely a dysfunctional trait being a man. I've long guarded myself because falling in love has emotional consequences, which I'm non too keen to tango with.

I should NEVER have to say "I miss you", without you running to my side with a plate of steak in the following 6 secs.

I love me.

Butterfly panics on train.

Before I proceed, this is just a mere interlude. I'm writing this because I think this is amusing for me and I don't deny being an idiot 60% of the time. I will round up the entire MissSeptember episode because something happened today that has changed the way I've surmised the month.

I took a train back from the airport just now and I must have spent the longest time shuttling between Changi Airport and Tanah Merah, EVER.

Since I've NEVER taken a train from Changi Airport, I always presumed the train would travel all the way to the other end of Sinagpore (like all trains do or should). Blame it on the emotional drainage from MissSeptember or the lack of sleep over the weekend till yesterday, but I fell straight asleep the moment I sat down.

I'm not shitting you. If you ever wanted to know what lacing MRT seats with valium would do, you just had to see me tonight. I fell asleep faster than Singapore's overnight independence. The only reason why I allowed myself to be lullabyed, was because my intended stop was some distance away and sleep is the fast way to forward time.

When I woke up, the doors of the train had opened and I quickly got up to see which station it was.

Changi Airport.

I started looking around, pacing myself through the train in bewilderment over WHY hasn't the train moved. The weird thing was that I definitely remembered dreaming about octopuses. Then I looked at my handphone digital clock.

23.03pm

I quickly scrolled my phone log. My last call to MissSeptember just before I boarded the train was at 22.32pm!

WHERE THE FUCK DID 31MINS GO TO?! Why am I back at Changi? Have I completed a round to Boon Lay already?

I turned to the nearest guy,

Me: "Where does this train terminate? Boon Lay?"
Guy: "Tanah Merah"

This was absolutely marvellous. I've been asleep for 2 loops on the train and NO ONE woke me up to tell me that the train had terminated?

Well done Singapore.

Post Script: I'll post the the rest tonight with the pictures.