Wednesday, September 13, 2006
all that i ever was
is here in your perfect eyes
they're all i can see
i dont know where
confused about how as well
i just know that these things
will never change for us at all
snow patrol - chasing cars
Sunday, April 16, 2006
(i) achieving THE insane pump
(ii) prospects of a fresh haircut
(iii) spa and vanity treatments
(iv) getting my measurements done
(v) retail
(vi) cheering kylie minogue on her recovery from breast cancer
(vii) justin timberlake's new album
(viii) making pointless lists like this. because i can
actually, im not entirely completely truthful about kylie and justin. and i dont need help. unless by "help", you mean funding.
Friday, April 07, 2006
and of course, charles darwin's "survival of the fittest" theory implies that we might instinctively rejoice when one of our rivals falls off the evolutionary ladder.
hah.
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
i think ive a high cholestrol level. might get a cardiac arrest anytime soon.
dharma:
man, im so unfit last time i jerked off i thought i was about to have a heart attack.
me:
no kidding. whats your going rate?
dharma:
my body isnt for sale!
me:
everybody has a price.
Wednesday, April 06, 2005
(i) chronic lower back pain from one too many golf sessions
(ii) life-threatening tennis elbow from social meetings
(iii) pegged the 'oscar wilde' within the singapore tatler circle
(iv) guilt-ridden sleepless nights with my employer's (employers') youngest daughter
(v) an action figure in my likeness, who comes with his very own insecure but painfully hot special lady friend
all these by 30.
and for good measure:
(vi) mild infliction of hepatitis of any sort
Friday, February 18, 2005
why aint you in bed?
girl:
just chatting...
girl:
finger exercises...
girl:
on laptop........ 16 calories
girl:
in virgina....... 32 calories
me:
virgina? what the fuck is that?
girl:
what crap...
girl:
vagina...
me:
hahah! claire cant spell her own anatomy!
names have been edited to protect the identities of the parties involved in this online exchange.
Thursday, February 17, 2005
removing her clothes:
with her consent....................... 12 calories
without her consent.................... 387 calories
opening her bra:
with both hands........................ 8 calories
with one hand.......................... 22 calories
with your teeth........................ 85 calories
putting on a condom:
with an erection....................... 6 calories
without an erection.................... 315 calories
preliminaries:
trying to find the clitoris............ 8 calories
trying to find the g-spot.............. 192 calories
positions:
missionary............................. 112 calories
69 lying down.......................... 178 calories
69 standing up......................... 312 calories
wheelbarrow............................ 386 calories
doggy style............................ 400 calories
italian chandelier..................... 972 calories
orgasming:
real................................... 112 calories
fake................................... 315 calories
post orgasm:
lying in bed hugging................... 18 calories
getting up immediately................. 36 calories
explaining why you got out of bed immediately...... 816 calories
getting a second erection:
if you are:
20-29 years old........................ 36 calories
30-39 years............................ 80 calories
40-49 years............................ 124 calories
50-59 years............................ 972 calories
60-69 years............................ 2916 calories
70 and over............................ results are still pending
dressing up afterwards:
calmly................................. 32 calories
in a hurry............................. 98 calories
with her father knocking at the door... 1218 calories
with your wife knocking at the door.... 3521 calories
Saturday, October 23, 2004
excuse my french but some people are so fucking stupid, it straddles the lines of being criminal. the jury has spoken. their penalty is a lifetime of self inflicted depression and hurt. the only way anyone can hurt you is when you allow them to. perpetual intensive couselling eats away at patience and sympathy. fade out objurgation. insert repugance, anathematisation and mental rehearsals of murder. then again, that would probably be doing them a favour. replace murder with object of ridicule. eventually, friends distant and they further lose themselves wallowing in self-pity, pathetic leeching and finger pointing. they are the source of their own misery. slapping them any harder is no longer funny.
me anesthetised or neglectful? perhaps but not entirely invalidated. brutual honesty will do them some good. stop contaminating our gene pool.
i have changed my mind. shoot them. in the ass. not across the cheeks. in the ass.
Wednesday, October 06, 2004
i guess to a certain extent it does. from previous experiences, time sedates and clouds even the most active of minds. i reckon its accurate to say it doesnt exactly make you feel any better about things. but perhaps, details become vague and you cant seem to grasp onto the slipping ends of details. no matter how desperately and morbidly much you might want to retain it. psych majors out there, please dissect at your own discretion. time and wounds. its only a matter of time. im hoping. really hard.
then what i need but did not get for this years birthday, is a time machine. how not to get hurt. this one is to anyone who needs it. though i suspect everyone.
(i) kill yourself. it is suppose to hurt only till you pass out. destroy. crush out. stomp out. obliterate annihilate pulverise every inch every single living organism cell dna strain nerve endings entire genetic setup.
(ii) kill off any form of social ties. then if you do get crossed over, you can only blame yourself for it. and proceed to inflict vengence with glee and convenience. the law isnt big on assault. but the last time i checked it isnt exactly criminal to multilate oneself.
(iii) if all else fails, be an asshole and rejoice in others misery. if you cant beat them join them.
chill out, im half kidding about the last one.
Tuesday, October 05, 2004
(i) airline pilot
(ii) plastic surgeon
(iii) shallow overachieving megalomaniac of a fashion powerhouse
(iv) investment banker
its official. choices (i) and (ii) are out. at least i still have half of them to go. or i can always pretend to dream of more, throw them in and have a better ratio.
i just like to smile alot, shake lots of hands... or whatnots. and somewhere along the way, take everybodys money. it will splendid if its also legal, disease-free and clean money.
at least im honest about it.
Tuesday, September 28, 2004
amen.
Monday, August 23, 2004
"theres no such thing! its a joke!"
i believe the local soccer team will never ever make it even into the para-olympics. then again, we just might. after an earthquake along the equator relocates us to japan.
berkowitz says:
i hate footballers.
dharma says:
yeah me too. soccer players, i mean. soccer players are mad pussies.
berkowitz says:
wait, why do u hate them?
dharma says:
except pele. but all the rest are pussies. especially beckham.
berkowitz says:
i think footballers are generally lowly-educated fucks who kick an orange.
dharma says:
lol
berkowitz says:
who then decide to graduate (only time the word can be use) to kicking a larger ball.
dharma says:
im quoting you on this.
berkowitz says:
ill kick their fucking nuts.
Wednesday, June 30, 2004
you give them a piece of you. they dont ask for it. they do something dumb one day like kiss you, or smile at you, and then your life isnt your own anymore. love takes hostages. it gets inside you. it eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so a simple phrase like 'maybe we should just be friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart.
it hurts. not just in the imagination. not just in the mind. its a soul-hurt, a body-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. but do i hate love? never.
how apt. and i bestow credit upon april for pointing this passage out to me. although it will be really nice to know its source.
Monday, May 31, 2004
it is all true. indeed, charlie kaufman has a remarkable gift in taking ordinary subject matter, in this case, a simple love story and transforming it into something completely unique, occasionally weird but yet always fascinating. i slouched through the first 20 minutes of the film but as the story unfolds itself, i found myself sitting up, enthralled, in awe and anticipating each following scene with bated breath.
how can i forget the beach house scene. it was a distinctive and heartbreaking flash of visual brilliance. never before have i heard so much sniffles during a screening. fascinated by the effect of the film on the audience, i found myself juggling my senses between the screen and the commotion around me. as joel races around in his subconscious, grasping at straws and trying to keep clementine in his head and as he fought so hard, in deseperation, to retain the last remaining strips of memory from the beach house, i too was overwhelmed. i was this close to sniffling.
joel: "ok!"
a love affair, even if it turns out to be a painful one, can never really be completely obliterated.
dharma: "that's deep..."
damn right it is.
i have no qualms about watching it a second time. or a third. if you have yet to see it, go catch it. if you aint overwhelmed by it, you must be (i) lying (ii) dead (which brings me to my next axiom) (iii) fucking jaded and the perfect poster-person for suicide.