Sour cream. Think Pringles.
The past few days have been so happening that I have difficulty recollecting them. If only someone can come up with a machine that automatically blogs my thoughts. Then again, that blog might go something like this:
Met up with Yaohui and Kenny today to go shopping for their V day gifts. I want to have sex. Met at Lido Macs at 1030 in the morning would you believe it and we had breakfast. Sex before breakfast is good. Saw these two fucking tall Pakistanis and they were scary. Can they even have sex? Wow check out that girl. Nice legs. Yummy. Those two guys were like 2.85m tall and I think they can wrap their hands around my face. Think I don’t care I just wanna have sex. Hmm… maybe I should go home and surf the net for the tallest people in the world. Maybe surf some porn too. Sex.
I don’t think you get it. The average male thinks about sex once every 8 minutes. For me it’s 8 seconds. Actually my thoughts are more graphic than these. I can elaborate. But then again, I realized I actually have readers other than Kenny and Yaohui and they are of the fairer gender, with possibly less tolerance for vivid descriptions of sex and stuff. And considering that my sis who is 15 years old will eventually figure out the address to this blog, I’d better curb my descriptive instincts and keep it at the PG rating. But then again, my jokes about the stupid kid, asking how to pronounce P-E-N-I-S, has already done enough harm. Oh well… fuck it. Sis, big Bro is actually a very nice guy ok? I don’t surf porn, I don’t have sex, I only wank. All guys do. Yah. That’s why the mouse sometimes feels funny. I remove the mouse ball and do my stuff. Nice guy right?
Oh fuck. You better realize that I’m a funny guy and I talk nonsense.
Anyway, I will continue from my earlier post. Where was I? Oh. Fell asleep on Yaohui’s bed for a while. Then we went to the KTV at Shenton Way, my favourite place for singing. You know, ever since I learnt how to sing without caring whether I sound ok, I have been bringing girls to go sing with me. I realized it’s one of my ways of showing the sensitive side of me. Sing love songs to the girl. How cheesy. How old school. But they loved it. Hahahahhaha. It’s also my part of my screening procedure lah. I’ve like spent 5.5 years of my live with two girls who can’t really sing and dance and frankly I would love to have a gf who can sing me songs. No need to have Kit Chan’s voice, just not tone deaf lah. (if you’re one of the girls, no offence ah, I really didn’t foresee that you’ll be reading my blog.) On that note, I must say I really envy Yaohui and Kenny, cos Ailing and Xiaojia have amazing voices. Ailing has a very dreamy voice that can tame a raging lion. Think of the song ‘Somewhere out there’. Yup she has that kind of voice. Not kiddish lah you idiot. Dreamy. She can sing that song by Penny Dai very well indeed. As for Xiaojia, she should go and join some talent time or something. She can really hit the very high notes and with strength as well. Powerful voice sia. She sang an assortment of songs by an assortment of singers, and I must say she never failed to impress. And she beat me at Jenga one on one.
Anyway, when was the last time you saw this word 'assortment'? For me it's on a biscuit tin. Same?
Shit I drifted again. Oh we went to the Ktv and it’s damned fun. We belted out song after song with flawless inaccuracy, especially at the high notes, which needed clamping of one’s balls with pliers. O But our (Kenny, Yaohui and me) rendition of Ricky Martin’s ‘She Bangs’ would have girls from other rooms throwing their G-strings and thongs at us if not for the presence of the two girlfriends of my buddies. Pesky, them. Anyway, the room was unusually hot. Fucking hot, in fact. I thought I was the only one, but Xiaojia agreed that it was hot too. Heng ah. Either that or she’s as fat as me. Haha. Can’t be the latter lah.
But it was that session which made me discover one thing. Something that I’ve feared all my life. Something we laughed about when it was depicted on TV. Something…
I have BO.
No lah it’s not the chronic kind. Not like that Jeanette Aw in that 9 o’clock show. But that night, I could secretly smell that dreaded sour cream flavour emanating from within my armpits. Yucks. Intuitively, I smoked. Chain-smoked, in fact, to cover up the pungent, offensive tang that threatened to spoil the night for everyone within that little melodious room. For once, I can really empathise with the people with BO, and why they are so self-conscious. It’s one thing to stink after sports, but it’s another if you’re dressed up and not suitably attired to stink. Yes, they have attires to stink in legally. I call it basketball shorts and jerseys.
Anyway, it killed the mood for me a little bit, and the fuck thing is that I was caught in a dilemma. Picture this. The seats in the room are in a U-shape, and initially I was sitting at the end of the U. But that position was directly under that cheebye spotlight which I swear could give me a tan in that 4 hours. So I shifted to the center of the U, IN BETWEEN the two couples. Wah kao. In that position, though cooler, I would risk BOTH the sets of couples catching a whiff of my manly aroma. But it stopped me from perspiring like a pig after sex. I decided that the less I perspire the less I will stink, so I sat in the middle of the U. Now you understand right, Kenny and Yaohui?
Self defence. I normally don’t stink. I have my fair share of spraying deodorants and keeping my underarms shaved and scrubbed. But in accordance with the new year superstitions, I did not shave, even when I knew that Amazon needed a trim. That night, sitting in the center of the U, in between songs by Jay Chow and Andy Lau, I decided to shave the dungeons of horrible death the minute I reached home. Yaohui, now you will understand why I wanted the car windows to be winded down when you were giving me a lift to Clementi. Yah. Smelly.
At least I have the courtesy. Just yesterday I was in the train and there was this cheebye Indian fella beside me. HE IS FFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUCCCCKKKKING smelly. And he has the right mind to hold on the horizontal bar too. Terrorist, I call him. Why can’t they just go shave? I’m not racist lah. Just that he happened to be an Indian. Some Indian girls are damn hot. Out of point.
Which leads me to a few burning questions. Why is it that only armpit smells? Is it because the cheebye adults tickle us too much in the armpits when we're young? Can I safely saw that only places that people touch a lot have hair? Adults used to pat our heads when we were little, so we have hair on our heads? You wanked too much as a teenager, so you have hair down there? Muthu was naughty as a boy, and his parents pulled his ears a lot. Is that why he has ear-hair?
Lucky no one touched my butt.
Ok this is it for the third day of the Lunar New Year, the year of the LP.
Anyway, let me give you a bit more information than you should know. I shaved my armpits today. Clean. Hairless. Virginal. Smooth like a baby’s butt. Mmmmmm…
Met up with Yaohui and Kenny today to go shopping for their V day gifts. I want to have sex. Met at Lido Macs at 1030 in the morning would you believe it and we had breakfast. Sex before breakfast is good. Saw these two fucking tall Pakistanis and they were scary. Can they even have sex? Wow check out that girl. Nice legs. Yummy. Those two guys were like 2.85m tall and I think they can wrap their hands around my face. Think I don’t care I just wanna have sex. Hmm… maybe I should go home and surf the net for the tallest people in the world. Maybe surf some porn too. Sex.
I don’t think you get it. The average male thinks about sex once every 8 minutes. For me it’s 8 seconds. Actually my thoughts are more graphic than these. I can elaborate. But then again, I realized I actually have readers other than Kenny and Yaohui and they are of the fairer gender, with possibly less tolerance for vivid descriptions of sex and stuff. And considering that my sis who is 15 years old will eventually figure out the address to this blog, I’d better curb my descriptive instincts and keep it at the PG rating. But then again, my jokes about the stupid kid, asking how to pronounce P-E-N-I-S, has already done enough harm. Oh well… fuck it. Sis, big Bro is actually a very nice guy ok? I don’t surf porn, I don’t have sex, I only wank. All guys do. Yah. That’s why the mouse sometimes feels funny. I remove the mouse ball and do my stuff. Nice guy right?
Oh fuck. You better realize that I’m a funny guy and I talk nonsense.
Anyway, I will continue from my earlier post. Where was I? Oh. Fell asleep on Yaohui’s bed for a while. Then we went to the KTV at Shenton Way, my favourite place for singing. You know, ever since I learnt how to sing without caring whether I sound ok, I have been bringing girls to go sing with me. I realized it’s one of my ways of showing the sensitive side of me. Sing love songs to the girl. How cheesy. How old school. But they loved it. Hahahahhaha. It’s also my part of my screening procedure lah. I’ve like spent 5.5 years of my live with two girls who can’t really sing and dance and frankly I would love to have a gf who can sing me songs. No need to have Kit Chan’s voice, just not tone deaf lah. (if you’re one of the girls, no offence ah, I really didn’t foresee that you’ll be reading my blog.) On that note, I must say I really envy Yaohui and Kenny, cos Ailing and Xiaojia have amazing voices. Ailing has a very dreamy voice that can tame a raging lion. Think of the song ‘Somewhere out there’. Yup she has that kind of voice. Not kiddish lah you idiot. Dreamy. She can sing that song by Penny Dai very well indeed. As for Xiaojia, she should go and join some talent time or something. She can really hit the very high notes and with strength as well. Powerful voice sia. She sang an assortment of songs by an assortment of singers, and I must say she never failed to impress. And she beat me at Jenga one on one.
Anyway, when was the last time you saw this word 'assortment'? For me it's on a biscuit tin. Same?
Shit I drifted again. Oh we went to the Ktv and it’s damned fun. We belted out song after song with flawless inaccuracy, especially at the high notes, which needed clamping of one’s balls with pliers. O But our (Kenny, Yaohui and me) rendition of Ricky Martin’s ‘She Bangs’ would have girls from other rooms throwing their G-strings and thongs at us if not for the presence of the two girlfriends of my buddies. Pesky, them. Anyway, the room was unusually hot. Fucking hot, in fact. I thought I was the only one, but Xiaojia agreed that it was hot too. Heng ah. Either that or she’s as fat as me. Haha. Can’t be the latter lah.
But it was that session which made me discover one thing. Something that I’ve feared all my life. Something we laughed about when it was depicted on TV. Something…
I have BO.
No lah it’s not the chronic kind. Not like that Jeanette Aw in that 9 o’clock show. But that night, I could secretly smell that dreaded sour cream flavour emanating from within my armpits. Yucks. Intuitively, I smoked. Chain-smoked, in fact, to cover up the pungent, offensive tang that threatened to spoil the night for everyone within that little melodious room. For once, I can really empathise with the people with BO, and why they are so self-conscious. It’s one thing to stink after sports, but it’s another if you’re dressed up and not suitably attired to stink. Yes, they have attires to stink in legally. I call it basketball shorts and jerseys.
Anyway, it killed the mood for me a little bit, and the fuck thing is that I was caught in a dilemma. Picture this. The seats in the room are in a U-shape, and initially I was sitting at the end of the U. But that position was directly under that cheebye spotlight which I swear could give me a tan in that 4 hours. So I shifted to the center of the U, IN BETWEEN the two couples. Wah kao. In that position, though cooler, I would risk BOTH the sets of couples catching a whiff of my manly aroma. But it stopped me from perspiring like a pig after sex. I decided that the less I perspire the less I will stink, so I sat in the middle of the U. Now you understand right, Kenny and Yaohui?
Self defence. I normally don’t stink. I have my fair share of spraying deodorants and keeping my underarms shaved and scrubbed. But in accordance with the new year superstitions, I did not shave, even when I knew that Amazon needed a trim. That night, sitting in the center of the U, in between songs by Jay Chow and Andy Lau, I decided to shave the dungeons of horrible death the minute I reached home. Yaohui, now you will understand why I wanted the car windows to be winded down when you were giving me a lift to Clementi. Yah. Smelly.
At least I have the courtesy. Just yesterday I was in the train and there was this cheebye Indian fella beside me. HE IS FFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUCCCCKKKKING smelly. And he has the right mind to hold on the horizontal bar too. Terrorist, I call him. Why can’t they just go shave? I’m not racist lah. Just that he happened to be an Indian. Some Indian girls are damn hot. Out of point.
Which leads me to a few burning questions. Why is it that only armpit smells? Is it because the cheebye adults tickle us too much in the armpits when we're young? Can I safely saw that only places that people touch a lot have hair? Adults used to pat our heads when we were little, so we have hair on our heads? You wanked too much as a teenager, so you have hair down there? Muthu was naughty as a boy, and his parents pulled his ears a lot. Is that why he has ear-hair?
Lucky no one touched my butt.
Ok this is it for the third day of the Lunar New Year, the year of the LP.
Anyway, let me give you a bit more information than you should know. I shaved my armpits today. Clean. Hairless. Virginal. Smooth like a baby’s butt. Mmmmmm…
posted by BigBang at 7:02 PM
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