Fun with Bank Officers

My bank officer is 8 months pregnant and constantly receiving and sending text messages on her mobile phone. She doesn't look at me, she looks through me and speaks at me. I feel like just another faceless nameless bank customer, which I probably am, to someone in her condition.

What bugs me is that her bank manager worked so hard to get me interested in considering the loan in the first place and in coming back the next day after my first appointment for another visit. I had visited that bank the previous day for a completely different transaction, and ended up staying another hour whilst her extremely competent bank manager helped me with a little bit of ad hoc financial management. I actually understand now the rationale of taking a bank loan even when one has extra cash or savings. Amazing!!

Oh well. I guess that's why one is a bank manager and the other one is a mortgage executive.

Plus, I believe that the more pregnant a woman is, the more alert and eager to do her job she should appear. After all, if you're not going on maternity leave, then your mind should be fully in sync with what you are doing. There is at the end of the day nothing to stop an employer from sacking a woman before she gives birth.

AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRGGHGHGHGHG

I have, no.. HAD a facial scheduled at 12.30 pm today at the spa. This would have been my first facial treatment since the middle of my pregnancy, before I became too fat and heavy to lumber to the spa. I was so looking forward to this. Already postponed once from last week!!!

A last minute client meeting scheduled at 11.30 am got postponed to noon, and now the inevitable has happened ... THEY'RE LATE !!! I CAN'T LEAVE !! CAN'T EVEN LEAVE TO HAVE LUNCH !!!! WHEN THEY ARRIVE, MUST SMILE AND ACT LIKE I'M NOT HUNGRY !!!!

So frustrated. Somemore cannot complain. Good grief, they're finally here (12.30 pm).

Them Goils in the next Building

From where I sit, I get an excellent view of the balcony in the next building.

The office that "owns" that balcony is a well-known advertising firm, and whilst our balcony does not even have a plant to relieve the scorched earth look that we are currently cultivating, the other balcony is lush, with trees, bushes, shrubs and an outdoor seating area.

I am slightly envious.

To top it off, there is a constant flow of young ladies uniformly clad in hip office-vixen outfits standing around in the balcony and smoking their cigarettes. This happens umpteen times a day. All of them seem to have the same long straight brown hair, slim build and ubiquitious white tube/ halter tops.

One of my horny male friends has asked me to put up a sign on our scorched earth balcony to ask for their telephone numbers.

You've Got To Get Yourself a Male Harem

... sez some old edition of Her World that I was reading at the hairdressers yesterday, after someone insidiously swiped the more interesting In-Style magazine that I had been reading.

The article basically said there was absolutely nothing wrong with a woman dating about 7 to 10 men at the same time, so long as she is single and free-to-date.

There's also a saying that I read in a book by Marian Keyes - The best way to get over a man is to get under another!

That's true what. If you're sleeping with someone else, then you really don't have time to think about the guy that just dumped your ass. Makes sense, although practically speaking it is not advisable to do this with all 7 to 10 men that one is currently dating.

I finished the article and was slightly dissatisfied. It was clearly sanitized. It said what should have been said about setting up a male harem, but self-censored out the best bits. Allow me to finish the article properly in my own way.

Rambling Not Properly Sentence Structured Criteria for a Proper Male Harem

1. It's all based on need/ want. What do you need or want in A Good Man?

2. Ok. He has to be good looking, good body, witty and funny and rich.

3. But if a man could fill all these criteria at the same time, he would already be snapped up what. So obviously you have to look for one that no one has spotted, probably because all or some of these qualities need to be coaxed out.

4. You begin by finding a number of different guys who have maybe two or even one of the qualities that you want.

5. So maybe out of 10, 2 are cute, 3 have fantastic bods, 3 are witty and funny (these are easier to find in Singapore) and 2 are rich.

6. After going out with each one a few times, you'd probably know which you'd like to continue seeing, whether casually or seriously. You can give appropriate excuses to the rest that you want to be "just friends". Or "just sex partners". Usually the ones with a good bod but no personality or no ability to commit would fall within the latter category.

7. If you have shortlisted the harem, and you still have more than 2, then you're obviously not too attached to any of them. Signs that you're not ready to settle down, or that they're great, but none of them is The Right One.

8. Refill the harem. Start over, until you find the right man for you. Or you can just carry on dating casually. After about 6 months of this, I guarantee you'll know exactly the kind of guy that you're looking for, even if you haven't found him yet. You'll also be sick of "date food", i.e. when you eat pretty good food for lunches and dinners, but can't really concentrate on the food because you're concentrating on the conversation and the strange new person in front of you.

K, this entry is for you.

My next entry, if I'm up to it, will be about risk factors associated with harem dating. [I'm not going to talk about how people will start saying you're a slut, etc. - that's not a risk factor, it's a given because you can't stop people from talking regardless]

Service with a Cringe

So my boss and I bring a client out for lunch today. We check out this flash Thai restaurant in the basement of Suntec City.

The food was pretty good actually, and decently priced. But the service was a right horror. They forgot about our appetizer, and kept telling us that it was "on its way" when we reminded them. Then they finally told us that our appetizer order was never taken. It finally arrived at the end of the meal.

But the best was when we asked for some tea.

"What kinds of tea do you have?" asked my boss. The 12-year old who stepped forward to take our order looked vague and horrified.

"Uh... Liptoon."
"Ok. Is it the normal black Lipton tea or do you have different flavours?"
"Uh... we have Liptoon."
"Ok. Can you give us the menu or anything so that we can see what flavours you have?"

The guy went off, and came back holding a tea bag. A single Lipton tea bag. I kid you not. And he gives it to my boss, who burst out laughing.

Sometimes I wonder where they get these 12-year olds from. Is there a central repository of illiterate non-English speaking non-English understanding children that I haven't heard of? This guy looked and smelt like he just stepped out from a basketball game to check out his waitering skills.

Buh-nana!!!

Have you ever seen a man eating banana?

What a Day

I knew today would be an interesting day, but boy was I unprepared. Also I think I'm starting to get depressed again and I really should get back on them Zolofts. It always starts with me grinding my teeth in my sleep, and that's been going on for 2 weeks. Then I start stressing out about everything and can't seem to distinguish between big and small problems and bugbears.

First off, we got about 4 new sets of instructions today for a huge range of different matters, so much so I really am worried about keeping all the facts straight. All require research/ drafting/ calling government agencies, and all of it looks urgent, or then again it could just be my increasing inability to see clearly what is and is not urgent. One of these pieces of work involves urgent research on import/ export licensing issues relating to defence contracts, so now having visited various Singapore government websites, including mindef, and typing "weapons", "military", "defence", "chemical warfare" repeatedly into all these government websites, not to mention research on the licensing requirements for manufacture of chemical weapons in Singapore, I fully expect to be tailed by government agents for the next few days.

Then I get a call from my property agent, who informs me that the Singapore Stock Exchange-listed developer from whom I am trying to buy a property (hereinafter, "The Goddam Bastards") have RAISED THE FUCKING PRICE BECAUSE OF THE RECENT RELAXATIONS IN PRIVATE PROPERTY REGULATIONS. So the announcement made just 3 days ago in Parliament has cost me S$80,000.

They're also trying to get out of the sale by pissing me off. Pay 5% option price, not 1%. And we want it TODAY. BEFORE 6 PM. So even though I've got urgent deadlines for various pieces of work this afternoon, I rush down to the office of The Goddam Bastards. When I met their sales representatives, I think it took everything I had not to crush the hands that I was shaking.

To cut to the chase, The Goddam Bastards also tried to insist on completion within 8 weeks for a private sale, even though they earlier promised to give me up to 10 weeks to raise the purchase price. And thereafter, tried to refuse to rectify all the wear and tear in this brand new property which The Goddam Bastards had used as a sales office for months.

After renegotiating the option, I rushed to the bank to tie up the financing arrangements and got to understand, firsthand, exactly what P R O F I T E E R I N G means. Thank God I'm not out there trying to get a loan to cover 90% of my purchase price. Then I took a cab home, just couple minutes before 8 pm, and kena pay the stupid S$2 surcharge.

The market's gone mad.

I know that sometimes I get a bad case of potty mouth, but nothing like what was going on in my mind today. I won't go too far into it, but I basically cursed everyone, from the gahmen to The Goddam Bastards to the cab driver who drove me home and back to the gahmen again when I switched on the TV and saw the Minister who announced the change in property rules being interviewed in the news.

They Learn So Fast

This is The Son, about 2 months old, and sharing his views about the temperature of the milk or something like that.

Dig them rashy red eyebrows.

Close Up of Unhappy Dictator Face

.... I think this picture speaks for itself.

The Little Dictator

This is The Son sitting in his little chair and issuing edicts (note the huggies diaper he is wearing which can be pulled up to his armpits).

He's about 1 week old in this picture.

The Best Yet!

From time to time, I get crap like this in my email. But this is the first one that has actually bothered to adapt the email so that the "deceased" actually has the same last name !!! I'm so honoured !!!! Previously the "deceased" was just Mr "SomeAngMoName" which is absolutely ludicrous seeing as how I have no Ang Mo ancestors to date. How do I know? Of course I know - otherwise my nose wouldn't be so flat !!!
________________________________________

FROM ROTIMI WILLIAMS. LOME TOGO
TELEPHONE NO +228-9076370

Attention: Jennifer Chih

I am Barrister Rotimi Williams a solicitor at law, personal attorney to late Engr J.C Chih ,a national Of your country, who used to work with Shell Development Company in Republic of Togo. Here in after shall be referred to as my client. On the 21st of April 2003, my client, his wife and their only daughter were involved in auto crash along ecowas express road. All occupants of the vehicle unfortunately lost there lives. Since then I have made several enquiries to your embassy here to locate any of my clients extended relatives, this has also proved unsuccessful.

After these several unsuccessful attempts,I decided to track his last name over the Internet, to locate any member of his family hence I contacted you.I have contacted you to assist in repartrating the fund valued at US$48 million left behind by my client before it gets confisicated or declared unserviceable by the STAR BANK PLC where this huge amount was deposited. The said Bank has issued me a notice to provide the next of kin or have his account confisicated within the next twenty one officialworking days. Since I have been unsuccesfull in locating the relatives for over 2 years now, I seek the consent to present you as the next of kin to the deceased since you have the same last names, so that the proceeds of this account can be paid to you.

Therefore, on receipt of your positive response, we shall then discuss the sharing ratio and modalities for transfer.I have all necessary information and legal documents needed to back you up for claim. All I require from you is your honest cooperation to enable us see this transaction through. I guarantee that this will be executed under legitimate arrangement that will protect you from any breach of the law. Please get in touch with me through this email for more details.

Best regards.

BARRISTER ROTIMI WILLIAMS
TEL NO +228-9076370
______________________________________________

Should I reply to this fucker? Unfortunately, I'm not as talented as the creater of this website - http://www.ebolamonkeyman.com/

Let It Go!!!!

Says myself (the adult one) to myself (the less adult one).

But I can't. Further to my most recent entry, I have been plagued by not just one, but by many many inner voices, as I start to remember all the antics that my dad used to get up to in order to avoid or delay his alimony payments.

Now that I have a kid, I wonder what kind of FUCKER would allow his children to repeatedly call him to beg for money. No kidding. When my mom got tired of doing it herself, or her repeated requests didn't work, she would put me and the siblings on the line in descending order of age. ME FIRST.

Let me tell you, never get 13 year olds to collect your debts. They are very ineffective. So are 10 year olds and 7 year olds. All quite pathetic since they tend to believe all the excuses given to them by the debtor.

So in keeping with the fantastic example that my dad has set for us, if and when I ever send a cheque to him to cover his medical bills, it will:

1. arrive late by a few months;
2. be frickin' post-dated by another 2 months to add insult to injury; and
3. have the wrong amount (less).

... after further consideration, my only regret is that yes, revenge is a dish best served chilled, but when one waits too long, the dish just tastes terrible.

The end is not near, but it's close

So I got a call from The Mom a few days ago and after talking about the dog peeing all over the staircase, the potential feng shui situation in this house that we're trying to buy, whether she should bring over some steamed prawns that my maid has prepared, and that I have to remember to buy more milk powder for the baby, she ended her conversation with this little announcement:

"Well, your dad called and said his cancer has come back. Only 1 month since the chemo you know! Looks like there's no hope."

"And oh yes, your grandmother passed away this morning."

Sound completely callous, but since they've been divorced for about 20 years now and the grandmother she refers to is my dad's mom who didn't like her very much, I suppose this level of concern is as good as it gets.

So my dad is probably not going to make it past my son's first? second? birthday. He's going to get his treatment in Malaysia - he was here for 6 months and the treatment cost a bomb here, so he'll pay Malaysian hospital rates and see what he can get for it.

I suppose that the hat will be passed around to me in due course for a contribution. Should I contribute? Hm... well let's see how far we can stretch the concept of filial piety.

I'll start by considering if I should repay him at least for every dollar he has spent on me since I was 12 years old (prior to that, I don't think even he can remember).

So that's S$200 per month, for 12 months a year, which stopped when I turned 21 (since the law did not at that time require him to pay anymore).

S$200 x 12 months x 9 years. That's a grand total of S$21,600. And not a cent more.

But what about the times he defaulted on maintenance payments? Let's be extremely kind and say he defaulted on only 2 in 10 maintenance payments. That reduces the amount to S$17,280.

So when the hat is passed around, I shall toss in my cheque for S$17,280. Since I do not work for the NKF, that's definitely not peanuts for me. Quite a substantial sum in fact.

This however means that I can't attend his funeral because if I do, there would be an additional expense which should be factored in to reduce the amount I contribute towards his treatments. So let's say to pay for my costs and expenses in attending the funeral, including airfare, reasonable accommodation and food, I will spend about S$2,000, provided I go myself and don't pay for mom. If I do pay for mom, it will double the amount to S$4,000, none of which is tax deductible.

Hm. Looks like the cheque to be written out will now be for S$13,280. That's enough money to furnish a house, although it means that none of my bathrooms will have gold-plated taps or expensive German toilet bowls.

Super Premium XO Durian

It was 6 a.m. this morning and I'd just taken out the durians from the fridge and washed my hands when I heard the screams.

(Previously) Sleeping Husband : YOU BROUGHT DURIAN INTO THE BEDROOM!!!!!
Me: Yah... so?
PSH: I WAS SLEEPING!!!! IT WOKE ME UP!!!!!

Some people are just so sensitive. It's not like I pelted him with durian seeds or rubbed his face in durian paste. I just brought the stuff into the bedroom so that we (he, baby and me) can be together as a fambly whilst I eat some fruit. Something that, I'm sure, millions of families around the world would on a daily basis without exciting any comment. Of this, I am reasonably certain. But no, before I can say "would you like some durian" I get hustled out of the bedroom with my durians and holding the baby. Well, at least one member of my fambly will accompany me as I eat fruit in the living room.

G loves G ...

And no one can take G away from G.

For some reason, Gordon just popped up in my mind. I should have entitled this post "I, I, I, I" since he likes to start every sentence with that word.

As Denise, my girlfriend from back in the day, likes to say, you can talk to Gordon about world peace and he'll still find a way to talk about himself. Or, should I say more reverently, Himself.

Gordon, if you are reading this post, don't kill me but I liked you a lot better when you had braces, glasses, bad hair and were still wearing your St. Andrew's tight white short shorts over hairy man-legs.

The IOC cost me S$15 !!!

And I have nothing to show for it.

On the way to work this morning, I observed with some irritation the smooth flow of traffic all the way from Marriott Hotel to Suntec City and compared this to last week when I sat in cabs that stopped for every traffic light from Plaza Singapura to Suntec City. EVERY SINGLE BLOODY LIGHT. And why? Because 2 lanes of traffic at Swissotel (f.k.a Westin Stamford) were blocked to traffic by the police. And for what? So that we could, uh, showcase how flexibly Singaporeans can bend over backwards to accommodate a bunch of VIPs for a week.

Yes, yes, we could of course say it will do us no end of good to have these people here a week as it will put Singapore on the map and we will all gain in the end from the publicity and earn more tourist dollars, blah blah blah. But really, thinking this through, did it register more than a blip in the radar of global newsworthiness? How does this literally translate to a tangible benefit to Singaporeans? Or are we just like the rich geeky kid in school who tries to get more popular by throwing a huge party for the "cool" kids?

And next up, there will be the new ERP gantry at Suntec to look forward to. I suppose the added (and largely, non-tourist) dollars from this gantry would be used to pay for our "cool kids party".

Brrrr... I'm mad

Hello Hello!

Now that I've finally joined the 21st century and successfully set up this blog (after 2 attempts), I find that I have absolutely nothing interesting to say.

Except that Ryan (The Son) has started peeing regularly into his bathwater and usually just after we put him into the tub. So rather than hold a cold wet dripping baby in my arms whilst I empty and refill the tub, I just bathe him in this fortified bathwater.

After all, Chinese women used to wash their hands in their own urine stream to keep them soft and smooth. It is also said that drinking one's own urine every morning is the best cure for cancer.