Saturday, June 23, 2007

Butterfly's Motivational Slogans pt 1

We’ve all seen it. Motivational slogans plastered in cheesy 2 dollar Kodak prints. It’s commercial spam possibly written by absolute idiots trying to normalize our flaws. It’s all about stating the obvious and telling you it’s okay to lose.

Do you really think people who write these shit are champions of their own causes? If you haven’t been fucked by reality yet, I’ll orientate you on this. Winners don’t have time to share their secrets with you. Why the hell would anyone want to share a winning formula.

If I find the cure for AIDS, you can be sure I won’t be sharing it. Unless it’s for a billion bucks.. and I get to marry Lee Hyori.

Reverting back. We have a poster by the entrance of my office. It's a picture of a Terry Fox wanna-be running on an endless road with Verdana fonted text glossed across the sides of it that reads,

the race is not always won by the swift, but those that keep running.”

This perks me up everyday. Cos’ there is obviously someone dumber than my colleague.

Me: “Don’t worry about sending out wrong emails. You’re safe until you start writing shit like that…”

The race is not won by the swift?! No shit Sherlock! I never knew this! I don’t think this is the same school of thought Alonso graduated from. Or how Ben Johnson must have felt breaking the 100m sprint records, even if he was on drugs.

If I win a race, watching my ass from behind means, you are fucked up and I just whopped your ass big time, and I’m also going to take your Golden Retriever home by the way.

The other most ridiculous winning advice I’ve heard was from the winner of the Subaru challenge many years back. In a post-celebratory event speech, he said,

I realized it’s not about mental endurance, it’s about keeping your hand there.”


Wow, thanks! I’m sure that was a huge help to all future Subaru Challenge aspirants; they would never have figured this out! It’s like trashy magazine advices from meth-addict bimbos. I’m surprised he even managed to remember the rules of the game. The only thing that might top this is,

Just do your best.”

Here are some others.

"Never let defeat have the last word."

Ths is the reason people break up. Everyone just wants the last word.

"That's what learning is, after all; not whether we lose the game, but how we lose and how we've changed because of it and what we take away from it that we never had before, to apply to other games. Losing, in a curious way, is winning." -Richard David Bach

Raise your hand if you mumbled ‘what the fuck?’. If any one tells you losing is a way of winning, take three steps back, you do not want to be associated with losers. Only losers tell you losing is winning. If you are still within range, you are allowed to sucker punch them with your master hand.

But if you really need slogans, I have the perfect ones for you.

1. If you keep running, you might not win, but you will lose weight!

In place of some beat up guy running in an Adidas headband, you have one Whale in tight spandex running towards MacDonalds. That, will be the fastest way they can clear 5 metres.

2. Condom’s prevent the worst STD, Pregnancy.

It’s a life a saver. You might think sex is better without one, but nine months down and you have to clean shit and diapers, you are going to wish you had pit-stopped at the petrol station for new rubber.

Nothing is scarier than a picture of you carrying a kid with the disco in the background.

3. If you really want to win, cheat.

I’ve always emphasized this to my friends. If you failed your exam, it doesn’t mean you’re fucked up or mentally retarded. It just means you didn’t cheat enough. Well, but if you did cheat and still failed, then you are mentally retarded.

No one really tabulates morals into winning. If you win, you win. Tons of people cheat in Pro Wrestling to win. So, in motion with all existing political action or social movements, if the Americans are doing it, then it has to okay.

Winning is everything. I’m sure you don’t look at the loser of a boxing contest and go,

“Hmm, that guy looks like he is going to get lotsa pussy tonight.”

4. A guy’s attention is spelt, S-I-L-I-C-O-N-E.

We’re saving you a lot on cosmetic and investment in good conversation. If you ever need to work towards correcting your flaws in keeping a guy or for that matter, getting a guy’s attention, then I have a solution. Make that a pair..


You’ll also be happy to find out that the success of hooking up or getting a guy’s attention in a club, is intricately and directly proportional to cup sizes. Look, I’d be give you one simple insight, if a guy says he’s only interest in the conversation,

He is gay.

5. Responsibility, is purging after a buffet.

We have to stand together in these dark times against our society's greater threat, obesity. Yes, it might seem like an awful waste to be vomitting that sumptuous 6 course spread, but it's better wasting $60 of food than being ostracized by everyone.

6. If you fail to plan, take an MC.

Yes, we've all heard the other more mainstream line, 'if you fail to plan, you plan to fail', but what good will this actually do for you. It's one of those lines that's really made more for kicking you when you're down than try to mitigate the predicament for you.

Well, then this is precisely why my slogan kicks ass. I'm actually genuinely offering a practical solution. Imagine. You have a big meeting tomorrow, but you dedicated your entire night before to licking your whiskey bottle dry ( good choice ) and you've forgotten entirely about that big presentation you have to give the following morning.

Rather than fuck up the presentation and unintentionally confessing your inebriation by walking in reaking of cigs and alcohol, all you need is to avoid embarassment by taking an MC. If you haven't realised, MC's solve everything.

Tons to work to do? Take an MC. Late for work? An MC will do the trick. Need to attend a colleagues wedding? Save money with an MC.

Remember, your only responsibilty in this world, is to make yourself look good.

Monday, June 18, 2007

Butterfly Attempts Pub Crawling.. Fails

Its been over 2 years since I last attempted a pub crawl. The last one I did with Eugg, we clocked 7 pubs and half of it we shamelessly bargained for free entry and promotional prices for beer. 2 years on, older but with significantly less maturity and an appetite to drink a brewery dry, I pitch my pub crawling plan..

We start off with dinner at Ember. Well it might as well have been supper and breakfast because it was a fucking expensive dinner. I start calculating the number of vodkas and champagnes I can have instead.

10.30pm: Dinner ends. I start suggesting fringe pubs. I throw up vulgar words like "Boat Quay" and "Mohd Sultan". Est is not pleased. LB is indifferent. Doh thinks Boat Quay is a great idea. She is immediately my best friend of the night.

11.00pm: We cannot get a cab. Est looks like she will stab our taxi driver. LB is still indifferent and Doh's enthusiam is waning. I am perhaps the only one who still believes pub crawling is a great idea.

11.20pm: We finally get to Boat Quay and we head off to find some pub that Doh's friends are at.

11.23pm: We ask for directions. No one has heard of the place before. Sounds like a great place to go already.

11.24pm: Kind bouncer points us in the direction. We think he is the kindest soul on earth and I contemplate giving me a handshake.

Bouncer: "Head straight up there, you'll see it"

11.26pm: We are lost. If we head up straight somemore, we'd be in Malacca catching fighting spiders. Bouncer obviously pointed us in the wrong direction, that idiot. We hate him and I start finding kerosene bottles to set his pub ablaze.

11.30pm: We finally find the place, which happens to be directly where we alighted from the cab. Obviously, enthusiam marrs our ability to read pub names.

11.35pm: The pub is a ktv joint. Doh's friends start offering us drinks. I suddenly think the night is going to be great.

11.45pm: I'm bored. I start telling LB that I'm going to tank myself up with alcohol shamelessly. I furtively start gulping all the drinks on our side of the table. LB thinks I'm an idiot.

11.50pm: Est engages in 5-10 with one of the guys. This guy says ONLY one thing in the game. "TEN!".

12.00pm: Doh starts another game of 5-10 with anoher guy. He also says only one thing, "TEN!". I deduce that this is a game that is disadvantageous to people with limited capacity in counting and vocabulary.

12.10am: Some dude pours green tea into my whiskey. I frown at him for diluting my drink. He thinks it's because I don't like green tea.

12.30am: We finally leave for some other pub to use the toilet. Don't ask why.

12.31am: Est suggest drawing cards to drink. We decide on tequila shots.

Me: "How much for tequila shots?"
Barmaid: "$14"
Me: "$14?! With a free bicycle?!"

We end up having Martini dry with coke. LB is adamant that the urine she just gave us isn't coke.

12.40am: Barmaid tells me that she gave me double pax for my drinks. I tell her that this is the most romantic thing anyone has said to me all week long. She laughs and thinks I'm funny.

12.45am: Barmaid gives me another glass on the house. I love being me.

1.00am: We decide to walk to another pub.

1.10am: Nearest pub we can dance at is about 3 years of walking away. I start getting sober so I become grouchy.

1.40am: We decide on The Clinic and I go straight to ordering a round of martini. I take a sip and we head for the dance floor.

1.44am: The music is so bad, only tone deaf people are dancing. We head back to finish the drinks and finally cave in to MoS.

2.20am: Est and I are plastered to the bar ordering continuous rounds of tequila shots and cocktails. LB has surrendered himself to sleep and Doh is occupied with one of her male friends. We complain aloud about them then realise our one true love is alcohol.

3.00am: I see people gathering around to watch something and realise Ash is giving a shuffle performance.

Me: "Is this the convention for envy? Why is everyone just looking?!"

One guy apparently got my sarcasm and he was laughing. The other girl just said, "We are watching the Melbourne Shuffle". What an idiot.

I was high and very amused by the crowd that shuffling was drawing. One guy started going into the circle to dance. He was horrible, he wasn't shuffling and he looked like he was going to poke someone accidentally in the eye before the night was over. I shouted,

Me: "Hey kids, this is what happens when you take too much drugs!"

3.10am: I am now the guy who shouts alot.

3.11am: People start moving into the circle. Ash pulls me in, "Let's show them our stuff", and for a moment I thought we were going to strip.

3.14am: I am now the guy who shuffles and gets free drinks.

Ash drags me off and rambles something about having her drink spiked but my immediate concern is when my next glass of whiskey is coming.

5.00am: Indian guy tries to pick Est up. I, in an irrational state, taps him on the shoulder and tells him, verbatim, "fuck off".

His friend is staring at me and wants to pick a fight. I measure the odds. There are 4 of them. I am half pissed, too tired to even dodge a punch but in full confidence of the bouncers. I wave them off.

The friend is absolutely furious at me and the only thing keeping me from pissing my pants is my very poor assessment of the situation when I am inebriated. Thankfully, he has one sober friend that is keeping him from beating the shit out of me.

I live to get drunk another day. I love myself.

In memory, Michael

I maybe wrong, but I believe there are nights when angels cry.. and they cry for you..

We visited Michael's niche on Sunday. Just the handful of us who could make it on such short notice, but it was enough. From the night Daniel broke the news to me in Perth till the day we finally organised ourselves to go down to Mandai Crematorium, I've been think alot of my army days and the time however short it might have been that we shared with him.

And a part of it is illustrated in guilt. My refusal to believe in his insanity, to belive that men crumble and surrender to life so easily, not when we struggled so hard together to keep faith between us. I wondered how much it would take to push a man to the brink of embracing death and how he must have laid on his bed of contempt, his hope for life gone beyond the recall of rationality. Then I felt guilt kick in, for not showing that extra concern.. for fading away like everyone else.

Pictures, they remind me of how you once were. They remind me of a time I seldom recall, but never forget. They remind me of how you once made us laugh. They remind me of you.

For what we have preservered, the world knows not and it is not in them to judge. Against All Adversity.


Wednesday, June 13, 2007

Perth Stories - The Loose Stories

The Internet Lounge

I intended to blog some entries whilst I was there because there is seriously only so much you can do in Perth. I can count it with one hand. Getting drunk, getting stoned, getting skin cancer and kicking a seagull.

I finally decided to use the internet lounge at Burswood since I was staying there when I first arrived.

Me: "Hi, how much per hour?"
Lady: "Are you a guest here?"
Me: "Yep.."
Lady: "That's A$7.50 for a 15min block."

I'm fucking serious. I swear the only reason why I can imagine the pricing to be so was that internet must have just been intoduced into Australia this year. I'd do the math. By the time I'm done with this entry, I'll have enough money to buy Christmas Island back from Australia.

Me: "A$7.50?! It's cheaper for me to watch pay per view porn in the room."

I was kidding, but she obviously didn't appreciate it. She frowned so hard I half expected her to pepper spray me. Whatever. If you can't take a joke, go fuck a cow.

The Burswood Casino Story

I finally went to VIP room to find my Dad on one of the days. I was desperately bored and the internet pricing didn't leave me with much options. The place sucked cos they refused to let me in on pretext that I wasn't in proper shoes. It's fucking ridiculous. I have on a pair of Onitsuka Tigers, it does get any more appropriate than this!

I see men going in, in sneakers. This was absolute bullshit. I'm absolutely sure it's because I look like a kid. I was 2 sentences away from leaving totally, but I'm glad I didn't cos I learnt Baccarat and there was this hot young Asian chick who was seating next to my dad and I kept bugging him to break the ice.

My Dad bets about A$3-5k a hand and I'd follow his 'tips' with my miserable A$100 chip. The thing is, this is a win win situation for me. If he's tip fails and I lose, he compensates me for that lost bet when he wins the next hand. If I win, I'd wink at the girl and she'll ignore me cos she's betting in hundreds, but I win.

My dad is hilarious when he's gambling. He'd slip in golfing jargons as a measure of his confidence in his bets. 'Birdie' for very confident and 'par' for 50/50's. I love my dad and I think he's the coolest guy on the table... until one of his friend threw down a A$50k chip for a bet.

I want him as my dad.

Butterfly is high, gambles anyway Story.

I was pissed high and standing at the casino war table. Its a stupid game where one card is dealt each and the win is measure against who has a larger card.

I decided to bet A$50. The plan was to win on one hand and bail. A$50 isn't alot, but it would cover a little for the next night's drink tab.

I draw an Ace, Croupier draws a 4. I win. I am A$50 richer and I can have 4 extra shots tomorrow night. I decide to win another 8 shots. I bet all my A$100.

I draw a Jack, he draws an 8. I win. Gambling is now the best decision I've made all year long. I decide to be smart. I split my bets. A$100 for each hand.

I win on one and lose on the other. I split my bets out again and I win. Best decision ever. I am a gambling genius. No one is my equal. I decide to bet ALL my chips on one hand.

I draw a 4. I am fuck.. but just..maybe.. I might have a chance.

He draws a Queen.

FUCKING SHIT! I AM THE BIGGEST IDIOT IN THE WORLD. I'll just have 2 shots tomorrow.


I absolutely love the shirt I have on. I wore it twice but now it's fucking ruined. My maid saw a stain, bleached it and the whole shirt had HUGE patches of orange marks. ORANGE patches. Huge ones.

And if that wasn't enough, she got worried, tried to scrub off the stain so hard that she tore a hole in it. The world hates me..

My mum saw how pissed I was, tried to calm me by telling me to go shopping on her account. I still very upset over the whole thing cos Lacoste don't have it in stock anymore, so I'm very sure I'm going to go on a spree and my family might have to file for bankruptcy.

I am such a spoilt brat. I love myself.

Beautiful sunset and all, yes. But this place was also miles away from the nearest restrooms. I contemplated running to one but the teperature was falling pretty quickly and I didn't want my colon to freeze and wake up to some drunk pissing on my face . We ended up just taking a leak into the sea.


That's Freo. Other than one market, some sparse shopping, cafes, pubs, the next most interesting you can do is try to kick a seagull.

I missed Armin by a week. Had I been in Perth a week later, I'd have been in time to go for his gig at Metro. Only thing is, tickets have been sold out for a week. I'm so glad I'm not in Perth. I'm pretty sure I'd have slit my wrist and spend my remaining minutes watching Koala's fuck. I'd probably die before they reach second base, but it beats getting killed by a Picanto.

If you don't know who Armin is, he's the 2nd best DJ in the World. Get that.. THE WORLD. Simply put, if he decides to play Britney Spears, we will still be cheering. I'd take that back. People in raves are pretty much drugged fucked. You can keep a track on replay and they'll still always be yelling,

"Dude! I Love this song!"

Tuesday, June 12, 2007

Perth Stories - The Conka's Night

Despite my last minute decision to fly down to Perth on impluse of leaving the country, I managed to get into contact with my old friend Daniel who like Eugg was working in Kangaroo city.

For the record, because everyone has the impression I left for Australia to re-kindle an old flame with my Japanese Doll, no I didn't. For weeks I've been wanting to take a holiday and it went from causal remarks to exchanging air ticket promotions to sending hotel pictures. It ultimately reached a point where I had enough of talking and caved in to impluse. Next thing I know, I'm packing up for Perth.

Yes I know. I'm implusive. I warned you so.

If you're in Perth, you'd know that chilli mussels are synonymous with Conka's. I loved the mussels, just that I thought their name sucked.

Me: "You guys have to really work on your business names. They suck."
Eugg: "What's wrong with Conka's?"
Me: "What name is Conka's? If they really know what good marketing is, they should call it 'Delicious Mussels'."
Eugg: "...."

Eugg is not amused that I'm taking cheap cracks at the country he now calls home. It's alot what 4 years can do to you. Either that or I'm no longer funny.

Eugg: "...during the Civil war.. WE..."
Me: "WE?!"
Eugg: "Okay okay.. THEY"

Daniel came and the night quickly turned from quick catch up to nostalgia.

The Guard Duty Story

In a brief, Daniel, Eugg and me were actually old army buddies. Eugg was my actual buddy who needed me to take his sock up for him every morning so that he could pull them on in bed.

We had this friend, Fong, who was huge. HUGE. He was about 1.75m, 130kg and was the kind that had constant wedgies from walking. Daniel was telling us about how there was this one time they had to do guard duty together and they were practising for a fire drill.

It was a dumb drill where the guard commander would blow the whistle and the guard duty personnels had to grab the batons and shields and run out shouting like pussies, "Fire! Fire Fire!". And you wonder why they say the Army makes a man out of us. Real men just sleep through a fire.

Sounds simple? It would be so. Only thing was that it was a proclivity amonst sadistic guard commanders to conduct such a dril in the middle of the night. It's chaotic. You're sleepy, you have to jump out of bed, find your fucking baton, shout, run to the assembly ground. Three words best sums up this activity.


Apparently, there was one time during such a drill, Fong jumped right out of bed and trampled on one of the resident cats. You'd have to remember that Fong was fat and already had difficulty climbing stairs without falling into cardiac arrest and for him to run out and step on a cat would be quite a feat.

The cat eventually started limping out of the guard house to where the guard personnels had gathered and started vommiting right in the middle of the fire drill. I love animals but I was laughing so hard I was actually in tears. I'm pretty sure I'd be laughing when people trip over hurdles.

The Story About Michael.

There is nothing funny about this one, but it affected me alot.

I'd be brief cos I'd write this after next week when I go to pay my respects. Daniel broke the news to me that one of our friends had committed suicide. It took me by surprise like a fist full of frangipanis on a Sunday morning.

We spent two years training in the same unit. We went through hell together. We laughed, we fell asleep during lectures, we took the same shit from the military system. We weren't very close, but we were family. We always will be.

Sunday, June 10, 2007

Perth Stories - The Night We Got High

I believe everyone is innately fun-loving. It's reservations and stringent self-awareness that corrodes our ablilty to detach ourselves from social mores and delve deeper into that 'higher state of consciousness', or what we commonly know as, being high.

Raise you hands if you've been there, done that and now snigger when you juxtapose this in a retrospective review of how much of a straight jacket you were just contented to sipping your beer by the bar and saying horrible things like, "I'm looking for a good conversation". If you haven't got your hand raised, you are boring and I bet you wank off to my stories.

You and your porcelain demeanour and renunciation of all things of mild insanity - and vice for that matter, can never comprehend why I've been preaching about inebriation for the past coming 2 yrs. Spare me your soporific harangue, when you've finally left your prism of vapidity, I will welcome this diaspora and you will too.

Being high is a state of becoming, not a consequence to an action. And given the right push, you might just escape the boundaries we have drawn in this world to keep us.. socially accepted. I know so, cos Eugg proved it.

We went down to one of his friend's place to start the night off with the right foot and one cone was all it took to bring Eugg out of character. While at the carpark finishing up our last stick, Eugg was already pacing back and forth, alternating between mild RnB bounces and a depreciative mimick of my shuffle.

Eugg: "Dude, don't you feel anything?"
Me: "A little.."
Eugg: "Shit man. Are you sure? Cos I can feel it!"
Me: "No shit sherlock.. I can tell."

I've never actually seen Eugg with so much enthusiam to tackle a night out clubbing like this before. All I needed was to give him was a pair of tap dancing shoes, some chairs and we'd be watching the Riverdance.


We eventually got into the car after a some discussion on where to take me for the night. I wanted Trance but Rowe was going to Metro for some shit reason about meet friends there then midway through she insisted on going back to take her iPod.

I spaced out in the car, then 'woke' up to find Eugg driving up the kerb onto the grass patch. Rowe got off and sprinted to where ever she was supposed to go.

Eugg: "It's ok..don't worry about it."
Me: "Are you fucking high? You will never be doing this sober. You are going to wake up tomorrow and realise that doing this is a fucking bad idea."

Me: "Reverse the car, you're going to have a hard time going out of this shit.."

We were parked on a grass patch next to trees. It's the very kind of scene you'd see on "World's Dumbest Actions Caught on Tape". Next thing I know, he starts driving forward again.

Me: "Eugg! What the FUCK are you doing?!"
Eugg: "I'm going to make a U-Turn."

What he was trying to do was to round one of the trees so that he didnt have to reverse the car out the way he came in. Only two things made this a very stupid idea.

1. The trees were very closely space together.
2. There was a steep slope beyond the trees and if we drove into the ditch, there was no way we were going to get out without a tow truck.

Against my advice, he went along with his U-Turn idea anyway. I made it to all the parties that night, so it proves luck is a good way to cover for stupidity.

We ended up going to Rise and nearly ended up in the hospital. Just as we were about to get in, a fight broke out between two gangs... of kids. I'm not fucking kidding. Kids.

They were like mini soldiers, all barely even old enough to legitimately buy a shaver and too young to even learn how to throw a punch. This is the FIRST fight I've seen take place where the aggressors barely came within 1 metre of one another. The closest they got was when they tried to spray mace.

But on the contrary, this made the fight (if you can call it one, I'm sure a punch has to be included to actually consider it as one.) even more dangerous for everyone else. That was cos instead of Jet Li inspired kicks and punches, they were throw EVERYTHING across the streets at one another.

Ashtrays, beer bottles, glasses, tables, crates, the neighbours cat. If they were strong enough, they would have thrown a Kancil. And everything went from, 'This is great, let's watch a free fight' to 'this is bad, we're going to get hit by glass'.

The moment the first glass shattered against the wall, I knew my immediate safety drill was to scream and run off like the lil' bitch I am. It was absolutely chaotic. I was half trying to run away and half trying to find a place safe enough to watch the fight. I'm inherently Singaporean, I know.

Eugg: "Hurry hurry, lets get out of here."

I started running, then glanced over to see Eugg still standing rooted to where he was.

Me: "Fuck Eugg! What the fuck are you doing?!"

And he started strolling towards me.

Eugg: "Lets quuuuickly get out of here..."

Then he continued strolling so slowly that Terry Fox could whip his ass in a 100 metre race. The projectiles where still flying across the road, people were yelling and I was 2 secs away from pissing my pants.

I've been hit by projectiles once and it left me a scar near my left eyebrow (explains why I changed my parting), so I absolutely know why it is perfectly fine for men to run away screaming like a girl. I only remember two things.

I mumbled, "Chee Bye...." and pulled Eugg along with me as soon as they started throwing the tables and chairs.

If this was Singapore, you'd have the cops on your ass before you even have time to read your rights. But in Perth..

5mins: Projectiles still flying. Two cars are damaged and someone is bleeding.
10mins: No cops. Fight still on. Bookies start giving out odds on the fight. Guy still bleeding.
15mins: Still no cops. Not much left to throw. Fight is ending. People are bored. Guy might not live the night.
20mins: Cops come. Fight has ended. I could have become a PR. Guy should be dead.

Despite that farce, nothing was going to derail me from two higher purpose of the night. Trance and Whiskey. As soon as we got to the club, we went right for the bar and ordered two rounds of whiskey coke. I was barely even into my ideal state of piss drunkness but Eugg looked like he had taken the whole wineyard hostage and was drinking since 10am.

Eugg: "The DJ man! Let's go infront of the DJ!"

I've never seen Eugg anywhere remotely seduced by Trance before tonight. In fact, I've never seen Eugg with this much enthusiam for an affair with the dance floor, not since the days of 2000 at Mambo nights. He was so high, people actually came up to him asking if we could hook them up for a joint.

Eugg: "Shit dude, do I look that high?"
Me: *nods*

Wednesday, June 06, 2007

Perth Stories - The 'Pick Me Up'

With all my impulsive holidays, I've come to realise that walking around town alone is one of the mandatory itineraries I've unwittingly subscribed to. I did that in Adelaide whilst having to wait for Minori to end work and covered the entire city in 4 hours. Now, having to wait for Eugg to end his white collared contribution to keep his PR, I might have covered Perth in about.. 2 hours.

Trapped in a foreign land without a sight of a single Louis Vuitton boutique, I did what all other trendy and exciting 26yr old would have done. Find the nearest Borders and hide in a corner.

From time to time, I'd allow myself to venture out to the open and infuse a prosiac dose of the Perth lifestyle. It's banausic shopping married to a plodding pace of life. It's so slow it's like driving Miss Daisy. I walk only for two reasons, to watch street buskers and ice-blended juices.

There was one particular busker that was giving pretty amusing commentary. He was in a pirate garb and trying to squeeze himself through a racquet. I stopped because I thought this dude might die and I would get to see how slow the amublances got there.

Busker: "I'm a professional busker and this is what I do. I also do gardening on the side, so if you have plants, I will water it. If you have weed, I will smoke it..."

I burst out laughing and parents with kids around me started starring at me. I had successfully promoted the 'Asians abuse drugs' sterotype. Parents have no sense of humour.

2 toilet breaks and a servere lip crack later, I needed to re-hydrate myself and since the nearest pub was 10 mins away, I decided to stick to fruit juices. Then there was Java Juice (or some shit like that)..

Girl: "Hi! What can I get you?"

I took a quick scan at the menu above the bar.

Me: "What's good here?"
Girl: "Ermm, just about everything."
Me: "I'll have to break a bank for that..."
Girl: "Haha... are you on holiday?"
Me: "Yea.."

This was a Caucasian waitress, cute and she had huge boobs that were beckoning me to end my conversation and skip right into oogling.

Girl: "Where you from? Japan?"
Me: "Nah... Singapore."
Girl: "Ahh nice country.. very clean!"

If you've spoken to enough foreigners who have NEVER been to Singapore, you'll realise that they always say the same shit to you. It's a close race between, "it's a clean country" and "is that in China?"

Me: "You've never been there before, right?"
Girl: "Oh you got me! Haha, nah I've never but I've heard lots of stories from my friends!"
Me: "That's cos we get thrown in jail for littering.."
Girl: "Are you serious?!"

People, the world is fair. You can be stupid, but you better have huge boobs. I love this girl already.

Girl: "Pick me up?"
Me: "What?"

If there was anything that could describe me, it would be a kaleidescope of shock and ecstasy. It was like walking into Gucci and getting hit by discounts. I love myself and obviously Caucasians love me too.

Girl: "Ermm.. pick me up?"
Me: "Pick you up?"

I grinned. I'd never imagine Caucasians to be THIS forthcoming. This is Bang Bus all over again, except in the streets and with clothes on. I love Perth and I'm shipping my stuff over to stay.

Girl: "Pick ME up... you know.. the drink?"

She points to the menu.

FUCKING SHIT! Who the FUCK names a drink 'Pick Me Up'!! I glanced towards the direction of her index finger.

'A smooth blend of Banana and Raspberry..."

Me: "Oh.. Pick Me Up. Yes. I'll have that...."

I paid, left to find a place to jump off to kill myself, then realised the tallest buildings around were 4 stories. Since I might chip a nail doing so, I decided against it and went back to Borders to read Harry Potter.

I hate Perth. I hate me. And I hate drinking juices.

P.S: I made one purchase. A pair of white aviators. I love it.

Tuesday, June 05, 2007

Perth Stories - The Vacant House Story

In perfect irony, I left for Perth in an attempt to escape that hectic pace I'm steering my life towards and yet I found myself right back at where I started. Drinks? Check. Chilli mussels? Check. Hook ups? Check. Nearly shitting my pants? Check. Finding out a friend committed suicide? ...check...

I've decided that rather than I write in chronological order like I've done for all my holiday stories, I'm going to do this story based instead. Excuse the discordance in which I'm about to keep you leashed on, but I will tell you what you need to know and leave the rest for the memories.


There are some things you know you shouldn't be doing but you'd make an exception for. Like jeering at the Special Olympics, adding ketchup to steak or having champagne with high heels. 'Breaking' into a vacant house is one of those you'd think twice when you're still baptised in sobriety. Two drinks in and you'd think bringing home the sofa is a decent a great idea.

Eugg: "Dude, my boss is out of town and I need to go over to feed the dog, but check this out.. She has the nicest house and an outdoor spa (jacuzzi). And I have the keys."

You'd know a winner when you hear one. This was like taking your prom date to the motel and they have you upgraded to the Elvis suite for free. I made a quick evaluation. Jaccuzi + drinks = a lot fun. And I'e never vomitted into a jaccuzi before, so this could be the perfect place to break my virginity. I thought for a split second, then replied in the only way I'm capable of.

Me: "LET'S GO!!!!"

Now, the plan was to keep this till the end of the night. Eugg would gather the troops, have all our essentials packed and I would contribute by keeping the toilet seat down.

Me: "So what dog does she own?"
Eugg: "I don't know, some stupid dog called Sam. How dumb is that!?"

I'll admit. I'm partially swayed by the dog. I love dogs. If I had my way, I'll have a husky licking me right now as I type this. This was going to the greatest night, ever.

Eugg's boss has a place at some upmarket district in Perth just overlooking Swan River. He affectionately refers to her as 'That Bitch". Apparently, she's out for the weekend on a trip down to Margaret river, so the place will be vacant from Friday through to Sunday. As Eugg tells me, he was made the reluctant housekeeper on basis of the proximity from his place to hers.

Eugg: "Dude, this place has the most high tech shit. The place is DAMN nice."
Me: "We are so going.."
Eugg: "I just hope she doesn't have surveillence cameras."
Me: "What?!"

He goes on to tell me about how he probed about the security codes and alarm and was assured that the premise's alarm had already been disarmed. He runs me through the risk assessment and all I was thinking of was the outdoor pool and drinking half naked in it.

We had dinner at some executive crowd Belgian Beer Cafe which served the most overated crap excuse of an Italian affair I've ever tasted. I could have chewed on raw linguines with chilli paste and I'd have probably digested better and complained less over.

Naturally we salvaged the night by heading over to one of his friend's place for BBQ. Having kangeroo meat and watching Tristan and Isolde is probably the best way to spend an evening in Perth, but I still had Singaporean blood coursing through my veins and I had a objective that needed attention. The vacant house.

On pretext of having to feed the dogs, Eugg secretly shared the vacant house details to couple of his friends. I knew where he was coming from. As much as I'd have loved it for everyone at the BBQ to have joined us, a crowd of that size would only get me inside an Aussie lock up faster that I can spell "Marijuana". As Eugg reminds me, we're technically breaking an entry not organising a house party.

Two things I failed to calculate while conjurring my uptopian night of a pool party.

One. It was winter in Perth. It was 6 degrees, my fingers were threatening to fall off and I would kill anyone who tried to take my sweater. Pool party? Not even if the pool was heated. I was so cold at one point (partly cos I went under-prepared on warm clothing), I was pretty sure my nipples would drop off if I ever took off my shirt.

Two. The dog.

When Eugg said he didn't know what breed the dog was, I assumed it was one of those toy dogs like Malteses or Suki Terriers. That would have explained the insignificance of getting the breed right since Eugg wasn't much of a dog person, every small sized dog would have been the same to him.

I was VERY wrong.

We snuck in at midnight, lined up in a file to walk down from the side gate to the house. I was the last person in and I remembered turning back to ensure the gate was properly closed. Five steps from the gate, I heard the clicking sound of bare toenails scratching against the floor.

I make a quick assessment. The dog is awake. He is running and he obviously doesn't sound very small. I turned to see the shadow of Sam (the dog, in case you forgot) standing by the garage door. It was big, it was black and it was a FUCKING Rotweller.

I will not elaborate on that breed, but if you know your dog alphabets, you'd know that Rotwellers also come with captions that say"aggressive", "unpredictable" and "guard-dogs". Sam is staring right at me and I am about to pee my pants.

Sam starts running towards me. At this point of time, I am only thinking of two things. If I've had enough clothing on to withstand an attack and shitting my pants. I've been attacked by a dog before and I absolutely rememeber the trauma of it. I was 8 and that dog was a pathetic mongrel. I'm 26 now, alot richer than I was and fucking alot more girls than I was at 8 and this was a Rotweller. I have so much to live for.. I do not want to die.

I am shit stiffed frozen with fear. I love dogs but watching a 50 pound aggressor charging towards you was a whole new dimension. 3 metres from me and still grunting, I was absolutely sure he was going to kill me. Then he went right for me.. and sniffed my crotch.
You cannot imagine how relieved I was that even having my crotch sniffed by a dog was good enough to be the highlight of my trip.

Me: "Fuck Eugg, do you even know what breed is this dog?"
Eugg: "Erm nope.. why?"
Me: "This is a Rotweller. They are fucking guard dogs. I thought when you said stupid dog, you meant small dogs..."

The house was cool. Nothing spectacular but I guess mediocracy in Perth is widely regarded as an achievement. The wierdest thing about the whole thing was how guilt was seriously disturbing our minds. For some reason, EVERYONE felt the need to whisper. All this despite the absence of a security camera and NO one else in the house but us. If this was my place, I'd be watching TV naked.

Eugg: *whispers* "This place is nice yea?"
Me: *whispers* "Why the fuck are we whispering?"

We eventually had a 'mild' session the next night, but nothing is more exciting or interesting to write about that beats having your crotch sniffed by a Rotweller.