"Although RJ lost, I think they played well lor! It was a very exciting match...but AC was really good lor! Good fight guys... try again next year! We..."

SCREW THAT.

Went down to watch RJ get thrashed 23-0 by AC.

Good God.

For the uninitiated, in rugby terms, 23-0 is pretty ok. It's not really a trashing, yet. It's just... a loss.

And they lost, not because AC was too good for them, and they were, but because they weren't good enough for AC.

It's just the way RJ played that irked me so. No class. No pace. No power. No style. It was really unsalvageable. Missed tackles. Bad hands. One time, they had the ball through and into space and the SHIT LOUSY fullback just DROPPED THE BALL. He caught it, ran, and DROPPED IT WHILE RUNNING WITHOUT EVEN BEING HIT. That seriously counts for something.

And there was this AC FORWARD who just ran through like five or six tackles for a try. I mean ok he's big and fast but SERIOUSLY dudes. RJ was playing like a neighbourhood school. The whole forward pack mulling about behind the ruck, not stacking out properly, not defending, KICKING AND KICKING AND KICKING the ball away. COme on. If you want to kick, please kick properly yeah?


It's like, what the hell?

Granted. My team never won gold either. But we came PRETTY DAMNED close our J2 year. I mean, the penalty HIT THE POST???? and the conversion scraped wide?... 13-11. at least it was decent. At least we can say we lost with style. With our heads held high. an unlucky conspiring of fate and fortune to prevent us from winning. Just centimeters seperated our scores.

But this RJ batch. Shit lousy. Shit. They don't even look like winners.

Please. The AC team had swagger and poise. They stood upright, sprinted everywhere with their chests out and shorts and socks pulled up high, their jerseys always neatly tucked in. Scrum caps and prettily coifed hair, neatly fitted guards and tape.

The RJ BOYS, however were the total opposite. No one had their socks pulled up, except for the substitutes. Their Jerseys were untucked and baggy, and their pants pulled low around their hips, some with their ass-crack showing. And their socks drooped around their ankles. They slouched around the field, and jogged slowly from breakdown to breakdown. Puh-leeeze. They looked like a neighbourhood school team. Where's the discipline? Determination? The desire? The presentation? The rafflesian spirit and all that?

Please. Buck up. Improve.

For one, where's the fitness? How can you intimidate your opponents when you're bent double, gasping for breath? When you're lying on the floor, chest heaving? "Oh look! He's tired... better watch out. So scary! AAARRGGHHH! how????!!!! Now that they're tired they're going to trash us???" Forget it. Fitness at school level is bloody important. Even if your heart is about to burst, and your legs are jelly, knees week, ankles wobbly and you can't breathe, STAND UP STRAIGHT with your HEAD HELD HIGH. LOOK like you aren't tired. You might be dying, but whatever it is, look like you're not.

Second, where's the DEFENSE? Your tackling is crap. Shite. Only the fullback sub tackled well. You take too long to bring the man down, in somecases you miss the player totally.

I don't want to rave on anymore.

I sound like a bitter old man, and I guess I am.

But stillll. SIGH.

Has everyone seen Star Wars, Episode III: The Revenge of the Sith?

Well, make sure you stay for the bloopers that are shown at the end of the credits. They're really funny. I especially liked the one where Hayden Christensen accidently lopped off his own hand with the lightsaber and stood there asking, "Excuse me! Can we get a replacement limb over here? Replacement limb please!" Oh, there was that scene when he was in the Darth Vader suit and he took of the helmet whining, "This helmet is chafing my eyebrows! It's itchy! I hate you all!" ...

Ok, so don't stay.

NDP rehearsal revolves around spending your weekend standing on top of your vehicle and driving round in circles until you puke. Oh the sacrifices I make for my nation. I deserve a medal.

I've been a very good boy recently. I actually think I might be able to return to society quite soon! The galvanic pavlovian training is going smoothly - the one in which they strap me to a wooden chair and attach galvanic rods to my temples while showing me pictures of beautiful women. The doctors say that they only have to run through it 134 times more to complete the treatment. As such, I'm cautiously optimistic that my upcoming parole hearing will be a successful one.

Watch out, world. RAAOOWRRrr.

Everything is Beautiful. I love the colour of the rain.

Today I watched Star Wars, Episode III: Revenge of the Sith.

I've been a HUGE Star Wars fan since I was a little kid. I always wanted to be Darth Vader, or Luke Skywalker sporting a huge lightsaber. I have a huge lightsaber now, but I'm no Jedi.

Right. Back to Star Wars. Now, when Mace Windu (Samuel L. Jackson) comes onto the screen, I'm loving it. To me, Samuel L.Jackson will always be Jules Winnfield, the trash talking mob hitman from Pulp fiction. What an awesome show. Anyway, the scene in which Mace stands over the Emperor-to-be, threatening to kill him - I just see Jules Winnfield going on about Ezekiel 25:17 - ok. Just read this part of the Pulp Fiction script to understand what I'm talking about.

(Jules (Samuel L.Jackson) and Vincent (John Travolta) have just burst into a room to pop some caps and cap some pops eating burgers for breakfast. I'm loving this. Check out what happens next.)

    BRETT
                      I just want you to know how sorry
                      we are about how fucked up things
                      got between us and Mr. Wallace.
                      When we entered into this thing, we
                      only had the best intentions --

       As Brett talks, Jules takes out his gun and SHOOTS Roger three
       times in the chest, BLOWING him out of his chair.

       Vince smiles to himself.  Jules has got style.

       Brett has just shit his pants.  He's not crying or whimpering,
       but he's so full of fear, it's as if his body is imploding.

                                 JULES
                           (to Brett)
                      Oh, I'm sorry.  Did that break your
                      concentration?  I didn't mean to do
                      that.  Please, continue.  I believe
                      you were saying something about
                      "best intentions."

       Brett can't say a word.

                                 JULES
                      Whatsamatter?  Oh, you were through
                      anyway.  Well, let me retort.
                      Would you describe for me what
                      Marsellus Wallace looks like?

       Brett still can't speak.

       Jules SNAPS, SAVAGELY TIPPING the card table over, removing
       the only barrier between himself and Brett.  Brett now sits in
       a lone chair before Jules like a political prisoner in front
       of an interrogator.

                                 JULES
                      What country you from!

                                 BRETT
                           (petrified)
                      What?

                                 JULES
                      "What" ain't no country I know!  Do
                      they speak English in "What?"

                                 BRETT
                           (near heart attack)
                      What?

                                 JULES
                      English-motherfucker-can-you-speak-
                      it?

                                 BRETT
                      Yes.

                                 JULES
                      Then you understand what I'm
                      sayin'?

                                 BRETT
                      Yes.

                                 JULES
                      Now describe what Marsellus Wallace
                      looks like!

                                 BRETT
                           (out of fear)
                      What?

       Jules takes his .45 and PRESSES the barrel HARD in Brett's
       cheek.

                                 JULES
                      Say "What" again!  C'mon, say
                      "What" again!  I dare ya, I double
                      dare ya motherfucker, say "What"
                      one more goddamn time!

       Brett is regressing on the spot.

                                 JULES
                      Now describe to me what Marsellus
                      Wallace looks like!

       Brett does his best.

                                 BRETT
                      Well he's ...he's...black --

                                 JULES
                      -- go on!

                                 BRETT
                      ...and he's...he's...tall --

                                 JULES
                      -- does he look like a bitch?!

                                 BRETT
                           (without thinking)
                      What?

       Jules' eyes go to Vincent, Vincent smirks, Jules rolls his
       eyes and SHOOT Brett in the shoulder.

       Brett SCREAMS, breaking into a SHAKING/TREMBLING SPASM in the
       chair.

                                 JULES
                      Does-he-look-like-a-bitch?!

                                 BRETT
                           (in agony)
                      No.

                                 JULES
                      Then why did you try to fuck 'im
                      like a bitch?!

                                 BRETT
                           (in spasm)
                      I didn't.

       Now in a lower voice.

                                 JULES
                      Yes ya did Brett.  Ya tried ta fuck
                      'im.  You ever read the Bible,
                      Brett?

                                 BRETT
                           (in spasm)
                      Yes.

                                 JULES
                      There's a passage I got memorized,
                      seems appropriate for this
                      situation: Ezekiel 25:17. "The path
                      of the righteous man is beset on
                      all sides by the inequities of the
                      selfish and the tyranny of evil
                      men.  Blessed is he who, in the
                      name of charity and good will,
                      shepherds the weak through the
                      valley of darkness, for he is truly
                      his brother's keeper and the finder
                      of lost children.  And I will
                      strike down upon thee with great
                      vengeance and furious anger those
                      who attempt to poison and destroy
                      my brothers.  And you will know my
                      name is the Lord when I lay my
                      vengeance upon you."

       The two men EMPTY their guns at the same time on the sitting
       Brett.

       When they are finished, the bullet-ridden carcass just sits
       there for a moment, then TOPPLES over.

       All is quiet.

       The only SOUND is Marvin MUTTERING in the corner.

Quick post

A taste of civilisation

Having just come back from the swamps, my feet are rotten bags of flesh. At one point, while i was taking off my water-logged boots which had shrunk and tightened around my feet, i had the horrible image of my leg breaking at my shin, like a piece of dead meat with a soft bone. Then in agony and horror, i would shake the remains of my foot out of my boot, and it would come sliding out in drips, carrying with it an awful stench of death. Flies would come immediately and begin to buzz around the rotten meat pile on the floor, and around the stumps which used to have been feet.

But now, I sit clean and dry in front of my computer, scurrying to meet deadlines.

And i book back in tonight. A friday night, of all night.


"Weekend? I know not the meaning of weekend. To me, it is all one."

- Timothy

I re-learnt something old today.

One's blog is actually PUBLIC DOMAIN! so it's not a personal blog. and if you slander or libel someone on your blog you can get sued for slander!

So bloggers beware. Try not to bash Singapore and Philip Yeo and A*star! In fact, don't bash ANYBODY and ANYTHING! Don't mention anything subversive or racist either!

In fact, that probably means you all won't have anything to write about anymore so we all can just stop blogging. Just kidding.

Henceforth, I shall stick to safe, mundane topics like the weather.

It was a little rainy last night... ok it was a damn lightning storm with kick-ass thunder and the roof leaked and my umbrella practically inverted.

Today was sunny! And very hot! Which made the soccer pitch a baking mud trap. YAY!

Singaporean weather is like... Grace Quek.

Grace Quek, as in Annabelle Chong? - Hot and wet.

PUBLIC APOLOGY

I want to publicly and humiliatingly apologise to someone whom I've somehow insulted and slandered and libelled. I grovel on my knees for your forgiveness and please don't send the secret police to drag me away. OH!!!!

I apologise for that remark as well.

I sincerely and truly apologise and beg your forgiveness. I did not mean any of my comments. They were written and posted in a moment of folly, and on my PERSONAL BLOG. I didn't mean what I said. I know there is no such thing as Secret Police, and I was just kidding.

I will take down all posts regarding that incident.

Yours Sincerely,

timoland.

I'm a very happy boy.

Actually something really really funny happened but I can't write it down here because I'm worried that my blog will get shut down. I read the newspapers, and I read about something that happened to someone, and I'm not going to mention names because if I mention about someone, that someone will come shut me down to. Anyway that someone has been cracking down on many someones over a lot of somethings.

So now I can't even tell you a joke on my PERSONAL BLOG about someone because that someone will read it and something will happen to me and I don't want anything to happen. In fact, I'm worried that someone might be too sensitive and misconstrue this entry and in fact, by misconstruing it will actually understand it and that someone will get pissed and make something happen to me.

Whatever happened to free speech? Has all free speech been turned into slander and libel or whatever it's called?

You can't even use nationalities in a joke now for fear of being labelled a racist or a nazi by someone. GAHHH. You can't even say that someone hasn't been doing their job properly because that someone is too busy reading PERSONAL BLOGS and getting worked up about it and making somethings happen to someone. It's all over in the papers.

I yearn for free speech and the right to poke fun at anyone and anything online or offline without having to worry about someone's feeling being hurt or whatever. Seriously.

Whatever.

Oh, I was rambling.

I'm a happy boy because for the next 13 weekends....

I'll be rehearsing for the day EVERYBODY loves to celebrate!

National DAY!

Yippeee-kai-yay.

Oh! It wasn't meant to be sacarstic! I'm genuinely happy to burn my weekends and get half-day offs in return! Anything for my country! Seriously, I'm being serious.

I don't want anyone to mistake this entry for a barbed, sacarstic remark criticizing whatever. Because it's not.

Ok. I seem to be digging my own grave. I'm going to hide under the bedcovers now and pray the secret police don't come and drag me away in the night time.

WAIT! I know there's no secret police and I'M JUST JOKING!!!! NOOO!!!!....

I'm still about to book in.

My mom pointed me to this chapter and asked me to meditate on it. I'd like to share it with you too.

Isaiah 55

Invitation to the Thirsty

¹ "Come, all you who are thirsty,
come to the waters;
and you who have no money,
come, buy and eat!
Come, buy wine and milk
without money and without cost.

² Why spend money on what is not bread,
and your labor on what does not satisfy?
Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good,
and your soul will delight in the richest of fare.

³ Give ear and come to me;
hear me, that your soul may live.
I will make an everlasting covenant with you,
my faithful love promised to David.

⁴ See, I have made him a witness to the peoples,
a leader and commander of the peoples.

⁵ Surely you will summon nations you know not,
and nations that do not know you will hasten to you,
because of the LORD your God,
the Holy One of Israel,
for he has endowed you with splendor."

⁶ Seek the LORD while he may be found;
call on him while he is near.

⁷ Let the wicked forsake his way
and the evil man his thoughts.
Let him turn to the LORD, and he will have mercy on him,
and to our God, for he will freely pardon.

⁸ "For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
neither are your ways my ways,"
declares the LORD.

⁹ "As the heavens are higher than the earth,
so are my ways higher than your ways
and my thoughts than your thoughts.

¹⁰ As the rain and the snow
come down from heaven,
and do not return to it
without watering the earth
and making it bud and flourish,
so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater,

¹¹ so is my word that goes out from my mouth:
It will not return to me empty,
but will accomplish what I desire
and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.

¹² You will go out in joy
and be led forth in peace;
the mountains and hills
will burst into song before you,
and all the trees of the field
will clap their hands.

¹³ Instead of the thornbush will grow the pine tree,
and instead of briers the myrtle will grow.
This will be for the LORD's renown,
for an everlasting sign,
which will not be destroyed."

I'm about to book in again.

A friend told me that people who pick girls up have no class. When I told her I sometimes did, she recoiled in shock and horror.

"EEYEARGH!!! How can you pick girls up?! so low class one..."

I then asked her if she had ever gotten picked up before, and she said

"Once... no, twice. But I walked away."

How come? I asked.

"Oh... eee. very gross I didn't want to talk to them." Well, actually she didn't say that EXACTLY, but that's what she meant.

What did they do? I queried.

"Oh, once on the train, this guy came up to me and asked if he could be my friend... then another time in Taiwan, these guys came up to us and asked if we were taiwanese or singaporean...so both times i just walked away quickly."

I sighed. Typical Singaporean males. Not to disparage them, but at least they had the guts to approach the girl. Here is a conversation with a male friend.

"Wah lau eh, timo, today on the bus got this FRICKING chio bu man. Wah lau she was damn hot lah...she was wearing this... blah blah blah...then her face...she looked like (insert name of female celebrity)...blah blah...wah i tell you man, she's damn hot lah."

I then ask, so did you get her number?

"WAH LAU EH, no lah!!! Bo ji lah... just see... No ji..."

I sighed.

Of course, I'm not saying that we guys should pick up every hot babe we see, but I AM saying that if you see a girl you fancy, then shouldn't you be equipped to go talk to her? What if she's THE ONE? She probably won't be, but who knows?... No harm in getting to know another friend, right?

Have no remorse. Carpe diem. Go for it.

You never know what's on the other side.

It's early morning now.

I'll be leaving to book in about 4 hours time. I hate booking in. and today's supposed to be a public holiday! Oh well. Oh well. Oh well. God works in mysterious ways.

Argh.

THE CHILD-TRAP

Today's method was tested on the MRT. You know, I like commuting because you never know who you're going to meet on public transport. This method works with a few conditions.

1. There must be a cute child, preferrably 1-3 years of age, accompanied by one or more guardians.

2. There must be a cute girl who you intend to pick up.

3. She must be have a clear view of you and the kid.

The Child-trap, also known as the Kiddie-bait, is executed as such.

You must first display a surly and frosty persona, so much so that your mark in question notices, and thinks to herself, "What bug crawled up HIS ass today?...Geez."
Then you suddenly notice the cute kid, who is doing something disgusting and looking at you like you're a martian grey. Your Oscar the grouch demeanour drops, and you suddenly go all ga-ga and mushy over the kid, pulling faces and smiling and sticking out your tongue and playing peekaboo and blowing kisses at the cute kid. If she's not paying attention, repeat until she does. If when your face is cramping, and she still hasn't noticed, forget it. You suck. But if she does notice, and she's smiling and laughing, then great. You're in.

pull a few faces - don't frighten the kid!!! or he or she might cry and that would suck, bonus points if the tot laughs or gurgles cutely. After you run out of things to do, turn to the girl and say, "Hey, your turn." If she goes "Hurgh?", She's a loser, so ignore. But if she laughs and obliges, you're in.

Then engage in scintillating conversation. A good follow up would be, "You like kids?" then followed by something to do with "Michael Jackson". If she doesn't catch on... man HOW CAN SHE NOT CATCH ON???? alright. Then get her number, wait 5 days and then message/call.

Score.