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Message to Elgene and Pang.

Spent the entire day painting Grandmother's 2-room rented flat today with Jessie, Robert and Michelle.

Jessie painted the flat with a sprained neck. Apparently, Jessie has a fetish for painting over ants, spiders and mosquitoes.

It took almost 3 coats of pure white paint to cover the fucking ugly dark purple walls the owner had. The entire house was in such a fucking abandoned state, and the furniture looked as if the husband beat the wife and kids with it. I won't be surprised if I find a dead body hidden around somewhere. The fridge was in a terrible condition, we certainly have to buy a new one. Same thing for the washing machine and the heater in the toilet.

No offense, but do consider which race you rent the room from. Some people just can't be bothered with basic hygiene.

Rubens Barrichello and Jenson Button from Honda Racing Team

Photos of F1 Singapore Grand Prix, taken at the Paddock Club (Honda booth), on race day, 28/09/08. More pictures available in photo album. Courtesy of Dad.

Watch the video : F1 Singapore GP Race Day Paddock Club View

Photo album : http://www.flickr.com/photos/sukianto/sets/72157607601963420/

Few weeks ago...

Dad : Yay! I'm going to F1 race day! At some..er.. pad.. dock... club! Oh ya, paddock club!
Me : Why do you need to go there when you can watch it on TV? No queue, no waiting, no shoving and pushing around.
Dad : It's... live! *mimics the engine roar of the cars* The cars are so fast you know?
Me : I think watching it on TV is way better.

Jessie and I were on the ECP yesterday night when traffic slowed to a crawl. We could hear the engine roar of the F1 cars in the distance, even with the windows shut. Out of curiosity, I wound down all the windows...

The sound was fucking awesome! It was like nothing I've ever heard. If I could think of one word to describe the sound, it would be... powerful.

Geesh! Why didn't we buy the tickets?!

Paddock Club pass.

Anyways, I'm hoping Dad comes home with some nice pictures and stories to tell. And to all those who bought the tickets, I really envy you guys! Watching live F1 is definitely a once-in-a-lifetime experience, something which I missed out due to my own ignorance.

Bernadette saw a familiar face while she was in a car heading towards Johor Bahru.

Waikian, working at Tuas Checkpoint! Checking car boot after car boot.

Smugglers beware! Don't even think of getting past Waikian.

His eyes are sharper than an eagle's.
His nose is more sensitive than a German Shepherd's.

Even though his brain is an estimated 8 times smaller than a bird's, he declares that it will not impair his overall functions.

Stop! Alight with your hands in the air!

No photos please.

I just can't stop laughing!

My first time watching a theatre showcase.

I've never been to a theatre showcase before. Fuck theatre, I've always thought. Explosions? None. Bullets? None. Special effects? None. Tell me how fucking interesting can that get?

Alec, Claire, Jessie and Me @ theatre showcase of Short and Sweet

Alec, from Texas, and Claire, from Seoul

Claire and Jessie

My neighbour Alec, was performing in one of the plays and he invited me to watch Short and Sweet, which was held at NAFA Studio Theatre. He was performing in a play named AIDED, in which, he played Death, wearing a tie and taking frequent sips from a bottle of liquor. Totally different from the good old Grim Reaper.

I enjoyed all the 10 performances in 100 minutes. It was indeed Short and Sweet! I never took my eyes off the stage throughout the showcase. The plots were so interesting, and the actors were so fluent and so professional, I would definitely pick them as my lead actors if I was a movie director.

$27 a ticket is a bit expensive for a student like me, but if I have that kind of cash with me next time when I'm working, I'll definitely catch a theatre showcase with Jessie every weekend. Movies are just like repeat telecasts, but theatre is definitely serious live action going on.

I've been smoking since 15. I've endured 8 years of my parent's constant naggings of :

1. Lung cancer.
2. Is that a packet of cigarettes on your table? Why are you smoking? You know smoking is bad...
2. I have that friend who smoked heavily. Now he is in hospital, all sorts of tubes going into him. He is dying. Is it worth it?
3. I can smell that cigarette smoke from here. Aiyoooooh!
4. Here's $50 allowance. Remember to spend it on cigarettes and alcohol. *sarcastic tone*

I used to be able to smoke in my own room. I had my own ashtray sitting on my table. Then I realized that I was the only one smoking in my family, which didn't feel right, so I had my smokes outside the house. Moreover, my aircon started to stink, so it was time that I stopped and started smoking outside.

Let me tell you what happened yesterday night.

I dropped my Dad off at Katong for a company dinner. The moment he got out of the car, he waved to me to turn left, as there was a serious jam ahead. Shitty advice. It turned out to be a dead end. So I had to turn out from there. And Jessie, the eagle-eyed detective spotted something.

Jessie : Hey look. It's your dad on the overhead bridge!
Me : Ya, I don't think he can see us.
Jessie : He picked out something from his pocket. I thought it was a sweet. Oh... he is smoking! i saw him light up something.
Me : What the fuck!

I slowed down and rolled down my window. It was a marvelous yet stunning sight to me. Yes, he was indeed smoking! I yelled DAVID! He looked at my car, like a potential-roadkill-rabbit looking into a pair of headlights. I saw him hide the cigarette behind him. He was obviously stunned.

I rang him up on my mobile. He was stuttering when I questioned him. He was obvious-fuckin-ly panicking. Caught you!

I've seen his health reports. They've indicated him as a non-smoker (fuck them, they're obviously wrong) My sister, Michelle, discovered a pack of cigarettes, haphazardly stuffed into a tin of sweets in his briefcase. The cleaner working in the block, who was my good friend, claimed he saw my father smoking in the carpark. Jessie's mum saw my dad smoking the maintainance area.

Why? I have no idea why he chose to keep it from us. As far as I'm concerned, I've never smelled him stinking of smoke. Maybe I'm a smoker as well, so I can't differentiate. But Michelle has, and I chose not to listen to all the comments around me.

We haven't talked since. It was almost 5 hours later and we were in the same room, but we still continued to avoid that topic. I know that Mum would fucking kill him if she knew that he was smoking. I have already sms-ed him, promising him that I would not tell on him if he would cut down on his smoking. He didn't reply. My dad is obviously in a state of shock.

I don't know how long this would continue. But I'm looking forward to him quitting smoking, together with me. He just doesn't realize that he has a partner as well.

I've had countless dreams related to death. I'm puzzled actually. I'm a perfectly happy, normal person with no financial or emotional burdens, and I don't see why I should be dreaming about death so often.

I do relate my dreams to the people around me. They cringe and comment : I think you should visit the temple. Evil spirits. Don't think too much. Something bothering you recently? Aiyoh, why so unlucky? Don't say anymore, later it might really happen. Touch wood!

The most horrifying part about the dreams : They seem so real. And they are bloody realistic compared to all my other dreams. I can touch, feel, smell and see things if I pay enough attention to the details. The only thing I can't control is what happens, but I somehow know what is going to happen. When things get really messy and I panic in my dreams, I am even able to tell myself that it's only a dream and to wake up, though I'm rarely successful in doing that.

Ten minutes ago, I started sketching out every detail of each dream. I'm not an artist, I can't describe everything accurately in drawings. So if you have any queries about any scene, just leave them in the comment box.

Typical dreams, which occur now and then, exact same scenes :

Spiral staircase

Back during my kindergarden days at Fairfield Methodist Church (opposite Maxwell foodcourt), our classrooms were on the second floor, and the canteen was on the first floor (where they would serve us Milo and biscuits). There was this huge grey spiral staircase which I would run down with all my friends during recess time. One fine day, a boy fell while running, and I was right behind him, watching him tumble like a log rolling down the stairs. He cried, and he had a small cut on his leg. Nothing serious.

In my dreams, I am being chased. The staircase is dimly lit, the source of light coming from the roof. I am all by myself, there's no one beside me, but there's something chasing me. I turn around but I can't see what's chasing me. I am scared, I run down the stairs. I know I'm going to miss a step (usually around the base of the staircase). I'm right. My legs become jelly, I fall, slow motion, and I hit the ground head first, with my blue plastic water tumbler slung around my right shoulder. I now see myself from a third person camera view, hovering above the motionless corpse of a young boy who doesn't even look like me. There's blood all flowing out rapidly from under him. Then the dream abruptly ends.

Multi-storey Carpark

This takes place in a multi-storey carpark. There's another similar multi-storey carpark, floor height parallel to this one, barely two metres away. The walls are painted light brown. There are no cars around. Once again I'm being chased by something I cannot see. I can feel its body heat just behind me, and it's getting warmer as this unknown creature closes in on me. I panic, climb over the ledge, and leap towards the next carpark. I miss. I am falling fast, and I desperately try to grab onto another ledge. I miss. I'm falling further away from the sides, and there's no way I can grab anymore ledges. The ground is coming fast, and hard. I hit the ground with a loud thud. Everything goes black. I don't even see my corpse this time round, I simply just wake up.

Unique dreams, which happened only once, but are still clearly embedded in my mind :

My Dad's Coffin

This happened few years back. I was standing at the ground floor of my apartment. Right next to the lift. *touch wood* I knew my Dad died during a traffic accident, neither how nor why. There was an empty lot right next to a car, and I stood there, watched my Dad's brown coffin come in slowly. There were no wheels on the coffin, it basically just floated to the right spot and landed softly. I stood there stunned. I knew my dad was inside this brown coffin. I was speechless, too horrified to even cry out loud. Somehow, I knew I could end this all, just by waking up. I focused my thoughts on waking up and the dream ended.

Cousin Hong

I dreamt of my cousin a few months after his passing. I was at my aunt's shop house back in Penang. On the second floor, to be precise. He was standing there. Looking at the mirror. He was wearing a cowboy hat. Checkered white long sleeved shirt. He had a brown leather belt around his blue jeans. He was wearing brown boots. He was adjusting his cowboy hat in front of the mirror. I said hi to him, but he wouldn't reply. He was simply engrossed with adjusting his cap, totally oblivious to my presence. I stood there, then I realized that he wasn't supposed to be alive. I wasn't shocked or scared, just feeling so lost and confused at that point of time. I said hi again, he didn't reply. I wanted to touch him, but I didn't. And I just walked away. The dream ended.

I woke up, instead of feeling spooked, a wave of extreme depression hit me for like a minute (while I was trying to make sense of it all), before leaving me as instantly as it came.

Cousin Shirleen

About a month ago, I dreamt of my young female cousin, Shirleen, *touch wood* being involved in a fatal traffic accident in Penang. My uncle wasn't able to grab hold of her in time and she ran across the road. I was standing at the lane divider (dotted white lines), but somehow I did not see the car hitting her. My eyes were everywhere else but on her, and I heard a loud smack (which sounded like a ruler hitting on a table). Shirleen was there lying face-up on the ground in a pool of blood. Once again, the blood flowed fast and formed a puddle. There were no visible injuries on her.

The next moment I was at Grandma's kitchen. She was seated on a stool and crying and totally hysterical upon hearing about the death. And she declared in Hokkien, those very words I remember till this day :

So many family members dying because of traffic accidents. Happened two times already and now three. Nobody is allowed to drive from today onwards.

Then I woke up.

Three Suicides

I don't know how to even draw or explain this. There was a knock on my door. And I refused to open. There were three males standing outside my door, none whom I recognized in real life but I seemed to know them in the dream. I shouted Go away! I'm not opening! Please! Please fuck off! and I peered through the peep hole, quietly watching them. Two males were standing along the corridor while one male stepped forward and banged on my door. Open up! he shouted. I refused to budge and continued looking through the peep hole. Frustrated, the guy shouted You don't want to open up right? Watch this!

The three of them climbed over the ledge and jumped, almost simultaneously. I opened the door and ran towards the ledge, terrified to see three bodies 21 storeys below. I crawled back into the house, feeling very weak all over, and in a state of shock, couldn't walk at all. While I was trying to crawl back into the house, I was breathless and shouting softly, Help me... help me.. please.. help me. Then the dream ended.

I don't think these dreams are normal.

I found some newspaper articles dated 12 years back, laminated and neatly tucked away at the back of my drawer. I took them out, read them, and laughed real hard to myself.

I was in Primary 4 then. My mum had an obsession with tuition teachers. I had tuition almost every single god-damned day. It came to a point where I dreaded those tuition teachers. Shopping trips would end early simply because, our dear son has tuition in 45 minutes so lets all wrap up and go home. While mum fed the tuition teachers well with good cash, I fed them with lots of homework, so I had additional time to play without having to worry about deadlines. They did my homework and I learnt absolutely nothing from all the tuition.

I read The New Paper a lot when I was young. And I was all too familiar with the Dear Mr Wijey section. He seemed to have the solutions to all the problems on earth. And I enjoyed reading his section. So one night, I went into my room, took out a piece of paper, and I wrote a letter to him. Slapped a stamp on the envelope, and mailed it over to Mr Wijey.

Days later, people from The New Paper started calling. Reporters rang my house asking to speak with my mum. Some spoke to me, asked me a few questions here and there. You'll bet a million bucks that I complained to them with all my heart and soul. I told them precisely how fucked up having tuition everyday was. Mum, on the other hand, was more than happy to share her superb parenting techniques with the whole world.

And one day, an article (which was heavily edited and in no way like the letter I wrote) got published in the Mr Wijey section :

Check out the day and month.

Eventually a photographer came over to my place, arranged stacks of books on my computer chair and told me to hide behind the books. He snapped a few shots and left. This article talks about how fucked up my Chinese grades were :

They changed my name to Brian.

Well my parents are Singaporeans, they want me to go to EM1 very badly.

Yea right! See how the reporter tried to suggest the typical Singaporean kiasu culture? FYI, my mum and dad were both P.Rs at that time. My mum was from Malaysia and my dad was from Indonesia. My dad got his citizenship only when I was in secondary school and my mum just got hers recently. Obviously the facts weren't right.

Looking back, I felt totally stupid and naive to have written that letter, which was blown up to epic proportions by the reporters, without realizing the good intentions of my parents. I felt even more fucked up thinking about that huge sum of money, wasted on tuition teachers who did nothing but my homework. 6 years of primary school tuition fees which could have been better used to finance my university education.

Click on ALL SIZES in Flickr, to read the articles.

The first game console I ever got was the PC Engine. I think that was way back in 1990, when Dad bought it from Chinatown. I had an entire drawer full of HuCards (game cartridges) worth hundreds of dollars.

I was only allowed to play on the weekends. Not that the entire console was locked up or hidden high up somewhere during the weekdays, the problem was with the seemingly impossible task of connecting the 3 different coloured cables from the back of the console to the TV screen. Whenever I did it myself, there was only sound, no visual.

Dad wouldn't teach me how to fix them up (Mum would kill him), so I had to wait till the weekends. Saturday morning, to be precise, where he would hook up the game console to the TV, then leave for work. I woke up extra early on Saturday mornings, spent the weekends hammering on the pathetic two-buttoned game pad. On Sunday nights, Dad would disconnect the PC Engine from the TV. That brutally selfish act of his, disconnected me from my one and only source of happiness.

Then "Command and Conquer for PC" came in 1995, and the PC Engine was left to collect dust, subsequently thrown away years later.

I found Youtube videos of my favourite games :

Son Son II

The Kung Fu

This was Dad's favourite game.

Vigilante

Super Star Soldier

Youkai Douchuuki

Shinobi

Mr Heli

Found two old class photos while packing up my room. The covers were pretty dusty and yellow. Taken in 1999, when I was in Victoria School Class 2I. Our form teacher cum Literature teacher was Mrs Poon Soo Lee.

9 years ago...

Waikian enlists in Singapore Civil Defence Force today! All of us were laughing when he got his enlistment letter. We were picturing Waikian going up a tree to rescue a cat. The cat comes down safely on its own, and Waikian is stuck up there.

Jessie and I woke up early, drove down to his place to pick him, his mum and dad up, before heading down to Civil Defence Academy (CDA) @ Jalan Bahar.

CDA looks really new, and the place is huge. We were allowed to take pictures inside the camp. The recruits were allowed to bring in any phone of their choice, provided they didn't take pictures during training, totally different from the strict No-Camera policy in army.

Parade Square.

We were given a tour of the bunks. There were fans everywhere!

The bunks.

The shower cubicles had doors, unlike those in Tekong. They even have a washing machine and a dryer!

Washing machine and dryer at the back of the toilet.

There was no confinement for Waikian, so he could book out every Friday at 5:30pm and return on Sunday night at 8:00pm. He is one really really lucky guy, and I wished my national service days were like his. The amount of welfare they gave to their new recruits was simply amazing.

See you on Friday!

I thought about something from my younger days. And that thought made me chuckle.

When Michelle (my sis) and I were young, we used to gather in my parents bedroom to play "Sampan". A sampan is a small chinese wooden boat. We would both carry a mattress over (the sampan), and place it on the floor. The floor represents water. How deep? Very. Rules onboard were simple :

1. If you go overboard, touch the floor with one or both feet, you have at most five seconds to get back on. You're in deep deep water.
2. Or else... hmm... no idea. You drown? Maybe? So far we've had no drowning cases because we were pretty quick and nimble.
3. We are NOT allowed to climb onto our parent's bed (located right NEXT to the Sampan), unless clear instructions were received from me, the honorable Captain, that we have docked. The bed usually becomes an imaginary market of all sorts, where Michelle would disembark to "buy" stuff and I would ride my motorcycle.

Once the game started, we would load all our stuff onboard that little sampan. Michelle would bring her toy stove and her toy ingredients onboard. And I would bring on the weapons, just in case we were attacked. I had this mini Lego airfield with lots of fighter craft on board. They had UNLIMITED lasers, bombs and health. And oh yes, how could I forget, my Ninja-Turtle grey sword. Our architectural skills were legendary, we placed pillows and bolsters at the side of the sampan to act as railings. The TV across the room provided on-board entertainment for the crew.

My roles on board the ship were :

1. Captain - I steer the ship. And my word is final. Usually we'd travel to Malaysia, sometimes Indonesia.

2. Pilot of the planes - When I was flying the planes around, I was so-called ALLOWED to walk on water, until they landed. And while the planes were firing, I would yell "tew-tew-tew-tew-tew-bish-a-boom" very loudly. No enemy was too difficult for my planes. Sometimes we suffered a few losses (just to be realistic, crashing into mountains..etc), but new planes would almost instantly emerge from the airfield. Everybody would go hungry after the battle, so Michelle had to cook for the Lego men. Funny, because the plastic eggs were nearly 20 times the size of Lego men.

3. Lookout - I would lookout for imaginary enemies, usually the kangaroo soft toy was the main culprit.

4. Motorcyclist - At the marketplace, I would always have a motorcycle to ride on. It was very fast and went "vrooooooooooooom". Take a pretty stiff pillow, put it horizontally on the bed, grab the pillow between your legs, sit, and lean forward. There, you have a motorcycle. Michelle would sit at the back. And we would turn together, an amazing 30 degrees from the floor. The motorcycle would never skid.

5. Swordsman - Sometimes when the planes were out of fuel, I would leap out with my sword towards the target. Give it few hard smacks on the head. Threat eliminated. After the fight I would be very hungry, and Michelle would cook. And the Lego men would cheer for their new-found hero.

6. Lifeguard - Michelle would sometimes ignore the 5-second rule and I had to reinforce it by counting loudly, yelling, then pulling her back. There, I'm the hero again.

Michelle's roles were simple :

Cook (always plastic eggs inside the plastic burgers)...

..and cook somemore. Sometimes she played lookout and called "enemy". Mostly she played with her dolls onboard. If we needed to use the toilet, we would leap from the sampan into the toilet (toilet floor tiles were safe to step on). And we did our business in hurry, because the sampan would leave without us. I remember being yelled at by Mum for pissing all over the toilet seat when I had to return to the sampan in a hurry.

Time passed really fast when we're playing, and as we grow older, start to miss those days when we were young, stupidly creative and carefree.

I'm typing all these using only one hand...haha!

I know roughly one or two of you out there reading this have experienced a shoulder dislocation before, either because of sports, physically-demanding sexual activities, or by goofing around on wet floors. Pretty common. It's best not to leave it untreated. From what the doc told me, it will lead to arthritis. So I'm sharing some stuff with you from a patient's point of view. This procedure, from what doc said, is probably the most effective treatment available, compared to traditional open shoulder surgery. He told me two holes, but I don't know why I removed the dressing to find three, one which was stitched up like tic-tac-toe.

Two in the front... The crop-circle drawings are still there...

One small one at the back.

I feel that you should consider this Bankart Repair surgery if you're:
1) Experiencing frequent dislocations or near dislocations (that kind of about-to-pop-out feeling).
2) Just looking forward to a 44 to 60 day MC (super cool)

The total cost is around $2,500, and if you're lucky enough to be in service, you only pay $10 or so for the ward charges. Just make an appointment with a specialist, nag him about your frequent dislocations, and he'll eventually ask you to book a date for surgery.

I thought they were going to put me to sleep first before entering the operating theatre. Haha! Fucking silly me! In fact, I had to walk in, sit on the cold mechanical chair to be strapped in, before they finally put me to sleep. The surgery lasted only an hour. The moment I woke, that was the pinnacle of pain! Just stunning pain that made me moan "Owwwwwwwwwzzzhhh". The nurse was somehow expecting that reaction, so she came over, and provided me with painkillers. It was 10 am then, and I slept for a good 4 hours before Dad, Michelle and Robert came to pick me up.

The first day was pretty much painful. A very sore feeling in your shoulder which doesn't stop. You won't even want to lift your arm to clean the arm pits, let alone bathe. But rest assured, with a pillow under your injured arm, you still can lean back and play PSP like I did. Second day, not that painful anymore, just the bathing part. Jessie bathed me for three days straight, so all I had to do was stand there and support my arm. Not too bad, just that putting on clothes and wearing the sling was a fucking chore. Its been three days now and the pain is subsiding very very quickly. I'm happy with the progress. All the saline weeping out of the wound has stopped, so the three holes are pretty much dry now.

The second biggest problem, other than bathing, is sleeping. I slept with two small pillows underneath my arm so that it prevented my shoulder from drooping. And when I woke up, I held my elbow close to my rib-cage, and got up in a sit-up motion. Don't ever try rolling off the bed, my shoulder felt like it was going to tear off. The pain woke me up on and off during the night, even though I was on painkillers "Soden". That was because I took them at 6 p.m. and it wore off in the middle of the night. If you have to take them twice daily, I'd recommend 10 am and 10 pm (one hour before I slept). The saddest thing I heard from the nurse was that I was not allowed to consume alcohol! For how long, she didn't fucking say! Probably had something to do with medication, excessive bleeding and stuff like that.

I have a friend who practically dislocates everytime he reaches back, but now he's 100% cured after surgery. I believe it will do the same for you and me too.

Take a look at the following resources if you're interested in finding out more before the op :
UW Medicine : Arthroscopic shoulder surgery for shoulder dislocation, subluxation, and instability
HSS : Arthroscopic Bankart Repair Video (might be a little gross)

Hope this post will help the relevant people with shoulder dislocations. If you need to know anything on pain management and stuff like that, just drop them in the comments box. And oh yes, smoking did ease some pain, even though my New Year's resolution was not to smoke!

[Update - 180108]

The surgeon showed me the shots taken by the camera inserted into my shoulder during the operation. He was nice enough to let me keep it as a souvenir after I told him the tendons looked like "seafood", probably squid.

Dad took a picture of a very groggy me at the ward.

Jessie couldn't be there because she was at work, so she sent a hamper over the moment I reached home. Thank you so much my dear!

Later on in the night... I had to change into a set of more comfortable clothing. Taking out the buttoned shirt was easy..

Still a little bit of bleeding.

Putting on clothes was not! I was in serious fucking pain trying to squeeze into a singlet, therefore Dad had to cut up an old t-shirt. He cut me the sexiest t-shirt ever!

I'm going to remove the dressing tonight, because it has become damp from the excess blood and saline, hopefully get a closer look and a picture of the two holes. Jessie's coming over after work with dinner and to help me wash-up. I haven't bathed for a day and I really really stink, especially with dried blood under the arm pits.

I read something this morning at 6+ am that left me pretty much frustrated and at the same time upset. Just kept thinking about it the whole day.

Poor kid just lost his mum. I don't think the word "study mama" should have been used here.

I'm not empowered to play judge here, but I just wanna share how fuckin irritated I am with M-drivers.

Two years back, the handlebar of a M-biker hit my Accord's side mirror, then sped off.  Now if I see M-bikers trying to overtake from the left and squeeze in between, I will close up the gap between mine and the car on the left. If he's still being persistant in overtaking, I let him. But I know that one fine day, bikers like him are going to run out of luck, and his brains are going to be all over the floor while I explain to the TP how recklessly he was riding. I've seen some of them riding against traffic even. And one day if one flies over my bonnet while doing that, I'm still going to call for ambulance. But I'm going to "be in a state of shock, stutter and delay" while he bleeds.

I witnessed a lady fall from a M-bus, after the bus moved off while she was boarding. Her head was inches away from the side of the tyre, and the bus driver didn't realize it until about 10m away. I've seen M-buses going on 2nd lane of the expressway, travelling at 90. 

There are M-cars speeding like nobody's business, doing illegal u-turns. Parking also hit others, then run off. And then again there are the various odd looking M-cars that prowl the streets late at night, looking to race. And I tell you I'm scared of them. Really scared. I stay far far away, because I know, if an accident does happen, can fuckin kiss insurance claims goodbye. Won't be able to find them again.

I've seen them beating traffic lights, driving like their grandfathers own the road. They're "invulnerable" and "god-like" on the roads. Cameras can snap all they want, they can cause as many accidents as they like, the most they go back and get a new car with a new plate, then come back in again. No problem. Their cars are so damn cheap for fuck sake.

Then again, not all M-drivers are bad, some give-and-take on the road and abide by the traffic rules. But when you meet the bad ones, they are really crazy.

Botched up deal, dishonest sales committee, the en bloc arguement went to court and back. The opposition's lawyer was furious at the decision. Because it was music to our ears. The collective sale is cancelled.

The Wong family will get to stay here for a few years more!

Sad for the property agents and the developers, the asking price just doubled! =D I doubt they are able to afford this piece of freehold land now.

Six unlucky incidents, ALL either experienced or seen involving cars, last Wednesday.   

Incident 1

Early morning, I was driving to camp when a rattling noise from the engine rose from a soft yet irritating sound to a "fuck! something is wrong" one. It was as if metal spoons were raining down on the bonnet.  Dad's two friends came down from Mandai Kah Motors to camp and picked up the car for servicing. My drive belt gave way due to normal wear and tear.

Incident 2

An hour later, I had just finished a dispatch job, when the GP car broke down outside CMPB, due to a flat battery. Luckily it was a manual car, so I got the driver and Alvin to push, while I jump-started the engine. Worked fine. Still remembered what Dad taught me after the previous embarassing encounter. The driver continued on the journey.

Incident 3

15 minutes later, we entered the CTE. It was dark and rainy, so I got the driver to turn on his headlights. The moment the headlights came on, the RPM meter dropped to zero! Panic-mode, he turned off the headlights. The car was still moving at 70km/h, but the RPM was still at zero. My friend commented that it was a "damn economical hybrid car". As we exited the tunnel, the rain continued to trash down on the windscreen and we couldn't see a thing. 

So I got the driver to slow down, and turn on the wipers. The wiper moved slowly upwards and before it even went 1/4 way through, the engine died.

And we were right SMACK in the middle of the 2nd lane. No choice but to get out, in the pouring rain and direct traffic. Traffic was chaos, people slammed on their brakes, tried desperately to cut lanes and both of us donkeys were standing there. Soaked to the balls, hair all flattened, one guy tall, one guy short, directing traffic. Surprisingly, we were still grinning foolishly, sometimes laughing, while enjoying this "once-in-a-lifetime" experience standing in the middle of the expressway.

Traffic Police arrived shortly to halt traffic for us to push the car to the shoulder. She waited for the EMAS tow truck.  

Incident 4

While waiting for the tow truck, barely metres away from us, a lorry driver slammed on the brakes,  skidded a little, then another lorry crashed into it's back, then followed by another champagne coloured Mercedes which couldn't brake in time! SMASH! No one was hurt, only exterior damage, the Mercedes being the most disfigured bugger amongst them all. And they drove off to settle the matter somewhere else because Traffic Police was right behind them. 

The car got towed, and both Alvin and I were sitting 30 degrees upwards in the backseat, while laughing to ourselves. What a fucking unlucky day! 

Incident 5

The car got towed to the nearest carpark (Kallang), and after the military tow truck came to pick it up, we took a cab back to camp, and spent the entire journey relating to Uncle Taxi Driver about how "suay" the day was. Of course there were 4D numbers involved as well!

Then as we turned into Sembawang Road, yet another crash aftermath! It was a lorry that had crashed into something in the wrong direction. Pretty bad crash, the front was crumpled and probably someone got injured.

Out came the pens and papers. You read, I copy.

Incident 6

I collected my car after servicing and made my way down to East Coast to rollerblade, following behind Alvin's car, with Boey sitting by my side. Then while along the ECP, the engine noise suddenly came back again. Flap! flap! flap! flap! It got louder and I told Boey, no choice, have got to pull over.  Lifted up my bonnet and checked the drive belt again. Then I called up Dad's friend, and he explained to me it might be the stray strands of the old belt causing all the noise. Closed the bonnet, drove a little faster till the old strands fell off and the noise went off. At least I did manage to learn something along the lines of "drive belt every 80,000km must change".

6 unlucky encounters in a day, how not to buy...

The closest match was the starter prize "6045". Basket, wasted the bloody fuckin $16. 

I successfully submitted my Malaysian Citizenship on Friday after a lot of trouble.

I came back for the third time and the person gave a really grumpy look after checking my forms to find them partially incomplete. I mean, fuck, the forms are in Malay! So we asked if we could pay anyone to help us fill the forms in and his face brightened up a little.

He produced a small slip of paper with driving instructions to this shop. Take note, if you have anything to do with Malaysian immigration and the people there are uncooperative, you WILL need this guy. Let me give you the details :

WTLEE SERVICES  

Blk 77, #01-499, Indus Road, Singapore 161077
Call Louis Lee, HP: 97933633

It's within the cluster of HDB flats opposite the High Commission. This Louis guy specializes in filling up application forms and making sure your forms don't get rejected. I got mine filled up for $25. Expensive, but would you rather come back and queue up just to be turned away again? He actually filled up my particulars on the computer and re-printed the complete forms for me. So all I had to do was to sign.

I returned to the same idiot and shoved him my stack of forms.  His face brightened up and without EVEN checking my forms, he shoved me a queue number to submit them. Heheh...

I know it, you know it, but we cannot be crystal-clear online.

The next time I'm going back there again is to collect my Letter of Renunciation, then head down to SIR building to take my oath. 

[ Update - 020908 ]

Dear all,

Do kindly take note, just in case there are any enquiries about Form K.

As of current, I have taken my oath, and completed all my renunciation at the High Commission.

I am currently waiting for the collection of Form K - Certificate of Renunciation, which will take approximately two years from date of renunciation. My renunciation date is 03/08/07, which means my Form K collection date will be 03/08/09.

Upon collection of Form K, I must submit them (original and a photocopy) personally / send a representative to Citizen Services Centre immediately to complete the entire process.

[ Update - 301208 ]

Just updating for your info, might be useful for those who wish to see how far is the light at the end of tunnel.

I have completed the renunciation on the Malaysian side, and taken the oath at ICA building on 03 AUG 07. ICA sent me a letter in SEP 08, requesting that I submit the official renunciation document (Form K) by AUG 09.

The following are email exchanges for your reference.

My email to ICA

I writing to you with regards to the letter "OATH OF RENUNCIATION, ALLEGIANCE AND LOYALTY (ORAL), Ref No : Minor Oath" which I received on 01 Sep 2008.

According to the letter, the deadline to send the original and photocopy is on 18 AUG 2009.

My renunciation at the High Commission of Malaysia has been completed on 03 AUG 2007. Till date, I have not received my Form K. I have written to High Commission of Malaysian and was advised that the process take approximately two years. Collection date is, hopefully, latest by 03 AUG 2009. Attached is the email from High Commission for your perusal.

As this collection date is dangerously close to the deadline, I would like to request for an extension till any date in DEC 2009, giving sufficient time for resolution if any unfortunate issues should arise with the collection.

Do kindly take my request into consideration.

Attached reply from High Commission of Malaysia in Singapore

Dear Ms/Mr Sukianto Hamzah,

RENUNCIATION OF MALAYSIAN CITIZENSHIP

1. I wish to refer to your email dated 01 September 2008 on the above.

2. We regret to inform you that your Certificate of Renunciation (Form K) / Birth Certificate are not available for collection as the application are still under process.

3. We are awaiting reply from the Registrar of Citizen in Putrajaya, Malaysia. Be rest assured you will be notified immediately on receipt of the Form K/Birth Certificate. The process will take approximately two years. Please quote your registration number for further enquiries i.e. RN 44 / 08 / 2007.

Reply from ICA

After due consideration, we regret to inform you that we are unable to accede to your request to extend the deadline till Dec 2009. However, should you encounter a delay in the collection of the official renunciation document in early Aug 2009 , please inform us in writing with document from the relevant authorities and we would consider your request.

Just to let you guys know that this process will take years, given that submission of documents now are significantly delayed as compared to when I did it in 2007.

Start of renunciation process : 17 JUL 2007
Oath and complete submission of documents : 03 AUG 2007
End of renunciation process : 18 AUG 2009 (deadline to submit Form K from HCM to ICA)

Thank you Meek for contributing a valuable link which includes pictures of the various forms : http://chillibabe76.multiply.com/journal/item/241/Renunciation_of_Malaysian_Citizenship_at_the_Malaysian_High_Comm_in_Singapore

I wish you all the best of luck.

IKEA Jug (with removable liquid tube which can be frozen to keep your drinks cool) + few bottles of beer + a super-long straw.

That's all the fun I need this weekend. 

Jessie got a new white faced roborovski hamster today and decided to name him Boo Berry. I have a bad feeling that the buying spree isn't going to end here, we might even have Straw Berry, Black Berry, Rasp Berry, Blue Berry.

However, I find him really cute.

and of course the cutest picture by far..

Geesh! Knowing that they couldn't get the majority of us 4 room-units to sign the en bloc agreement, they decide to give the 3 room units a damn good price. And they got their 80%.

Time to move out 1 year from now.

Goodbye Accord 2.0 (1998 - 2006).

May you serve your new owner well like you have served me.

I remember the "one-fateful-night" two years back with Waikian in the passenger seat. It was my first few virgin attempts at parking the Accord and I decided to go headfirst in between two pillars. Waikian was supposed to watch my bumper and warn me if I came too close. What happened was...

*BANG*

Waikian : OK! STOP!

What the fuck man...*sigh* Thank you so much Waikian. Till today we both debate about the sequence of events... - Shout stop first then bang or.... Bang first then shout stop.

After much thought, decided to repaint my room. From white (really dirty white), to Orange Cream. Something light in color, my room is already dull enough.

The painstaking chore of taping every single bloody corner with masking tape. (2:15PM)

Getting someone taller to help cover up the lights with newspapers.

And of course my dear sister, who stood there with me for the next 5 hours helping me hold up the paint.  Thank you so much!

Almost there...

Clearing up the mess...

Job's done! (10:30PM)

The whole thing took 8 hours and 15 minutes. 2 coats of paint.  I didn't remove the furniture from my room, Michelle just covered them with newspaper.

It was only after my first coat then I realized how much time and effort was spent shifting the furniture around so that I could place the ladder, that I got really pissed and started moving things out. And it helped a lot, too bad I realized it a little too late.

The new Honda Odyssey 2.4A Absolute will replace the current Accord 2.0 coming February 07, but Dad has already begun tearing parts out of the old car.

Now I have to use two hands to turn on the hazard light. One hand to support the dangling panel, the other one to press.

And everytime I do a turn, the clock bounces around with excitement.   

Exited the PIE towards Bedok, was sending Jessie home.

Then came three loud honks from the car next to mine.

Haha! It's Wenbin! 

Oops. Sorry.

Dear all fellow readers, 

It's way past midnight. Time to close the Teenage chapter of my life. I'm writing in an inebriated state, of which I tend to tell the truth in.

First and foremost, I would like to thank you all readers. It's been almost three long years since Orangeous started out. 22nd September 03, for your info. I've been getting a good solid 140 unique visits every single fuckin day (with almost 220 on weekends and public holidays, lol. wtf). The searches include the term "Agent X", which I will explain later.

If you were to summarize your visits to Orangeous, I would probably hear something along the lines of "this once-horny fucker took cheap Viagra and became impotent". Yes, things have toned down in Orangeous.

Police now not only wear cool blue uniforms, pistols by their side with no ammo inside. They now have begun to hold keyboards, mouse, and use Google all day long. Blogging has become a very sensitive issue. A post about keeping an endangered animal can warrant a visit from the AVA. People have gone to jail posting racist comments. The last thing I want is shit happening on Orangeous, which will lead to me being cuffed and shoved inside a waiting QX. If you insist on "free speech", go to a third world country.

Tons of people have added me on MSN, just to ask "Hi, who is Agent X?". I deleted them after my "Everyone." reply. True, Agent X has multiple identities. Everyone of us IS Agent X.  I hoped you liked those short stories on the many different stunts we have pulled, but sorry, Agent X will never come back again. Period. Unless I live in Iraq, where I can murder my neighbour and still blog about it.

The past 21 years of my life have been very interesting. I've touched everything I could lay my hands on. The drugs, the fights, the stealing, the times I've spent writing statements for my Investigating Officer, and the times I stood there helpless, watching my mum cry. I've never regretted a single moment of my past. These experiences were part and parcel of growing up, and provided me with opportunities to meet different breeds of humans in life.  I am now more prepared to talk to different people from all walks of life.

They all came to a close, only to be dragged up during sessions of heavy drinking and talk-cock sessions

I realized I had more responsibilities at hand, rather than enjoy myself all day long. It made me realize that I had more important people in my life whom I have been neglecting. My parents. And furthermore, I am in a fantastic relationship, I have another commitment to uphold, which I enjoy in doing so.

I realized that the whole meaning of life isn't always about "me", "me" and more "me"s. There are people around me whom my every action, if carefully executed with considerate thought, can benefit.

Orangeous is more of a personal-events-log-made-public now. Due to time constraints, I can't possibly update everyone, so after they read Orangeous, they start to have a better idea of what's been doing on. I  now receive less of "How have you been." messages and more of "Hey, I read your blog about this-and-that, so how was it?" This keeps my hands less-fuckin-tired explaining all the old shit and as a result... we have a much more fulfilling conversation when you add me on MSN.

With love,

Christopher whatever-fuckin-Sukianto-Hamzah. :D