The Final Half-Hour

First of all, let it be said that *I* would never be one of those "golly geez, didn't this year pass by with a blink of an eye?" people. Hell to the no. A 2 legged turtle with arthritis could outrun the glacial pace 2009 moved at. Where do I even begin recounting the tales of struggles and hardships this sweet lil' boy (I meant me, in case I wasn't specific enough) had to endure before I came to this stage of the sacred 'Final Half-Hour Reflections Time'. There was the looong wait for Mariah's album, which I'm certain made time slow down for a little bit, the A Levels, which I'm certain killed a little piece of my soul, the death of one of the biggest stars in the planet on the fateful June 25... Yes, Farrah, you will forever be missed. (What? Michael who?!) Throw in a recession, the news of Oprah's show ending and the inevitable realization that Twilight was never going to, I was desperate for the year to come to an end.

One of the things I regretted most in this year was probably the tiff in school, that affected some of us emotionally and psychologically. Hell, I wasn't even involved in the little tiff. But mess with ma girls and ya mess with me, geddit, bitch? This is impacting me more than I realize, cause I think I'm starting to sound like a New Yorker pimp. The little argument has effectively ended the friendships of some of us, but seeing how a blossoming new relationship has emerged after it, I'd say it's not entirely a bad thing. Just like how a black hole devouring Earth is not a bad thing.

I think I know why they call me a poisonous bitch now. O well.

The one good thing that came from this year is the end of my junior college days. Those were truly some of the more terrifying and traumatic experiences of my life, not counting the time when I was four and held another woman's hand and called her mom. That definitely tops the list, but JC life comes pretty close. I can't say it was all that enjoyable, apart from the time I spent with some of my school mates. I say some, because *others* just don't get the hint and won't stay away. Or shut up. Or die. I'm totally fine with them choosing any of those, I'm not picky. The 4 hour lunch-and-gossip sessions will be sorely missed. Probably not by the Delifrance staff, though. Or Burger King. Or Subway. Boy, are we a bunch of unwelcome freaks.

2009 is also the last year I would ever be a Singapore Permanent Resident. I enter the new year a complete foreigner, and my law-avoiding days will officially begin. That's right, people. My life is more interesting than yours now. Be very jealous. Live life on the edge of the visa allowance, that's what I say.

I'm running out of time here, only around five minutes left. Writing this is taking longer than I thought it would. Goes to show how much I dilly-dally when writing. I would just go off topic and being rambling about something completely ridiculous. Like ice-cream sundaes. Which are delicious, if i might add. Gives you a warm and fuzzy feeling, to be eating something with the word 'Sunday' in it. Conjures up images of fluffy birds and chirpy puppies.

Ooh I hear fireworks. the new year must be upon us.

Happy new year, darhlings.

Meet James the Alien Foreigner!

2009 will probably go down in the history books as the year of deaths. Everyone's (and by everyone, I mean the people who matter, of course. Like, celebrities.) dropping dead left and right. Golden Girls' star Bea Arthur, Charlie's Angels' star Farrah Fawcett, Clueless star Brittany Murphey, and of course, Michael Jackson. His untimely and shocking demise at the hands of his halfwit doctor has devastated the world. Another death, however, has managed to surpass the devastating effects of even the King of Pop's passing.

I am talking, of course, about the death of my PR status. *Cue dramatic background music*

Okay, so Mariah won't sing at the memorial, no one will cry, Kenny Ortega won't try to make money out of it, the legendary 'Are We Singaporeans Or Are We Not' ranch won't be converted into a theme park. But still.

It feels very weird now, not being affiliated with Singapore anymore, in any way. Sure, the other members of my whole family holds Singapore Citizenship, but whatever. After hiding behind a front of 'permanent residency', I feel as though I've now been thrust out into the world. There's even a thirty day limit, after which I would probably be jailed for staying here. You might gasp in horror and ask how can I possibly stay here for a while longer, because I sure know the pain of losing me to another country is pure torture;) The plan, ladies and gentlemen, is to apply for a long-term social visit pass. it seems outrageous, to make me apply for a visit pass to stay in my own house. Preposterous, some might say. But some also might say that my 18 year plan to avoid NS is manipulative and devious. Which I would then respond by saying, you bet your ass it is.

"You want to CANCEL your PR?" The receptionist asks, as if I could mispronounce it.

"Yes, darhlin, cancel. As in.. abolish, abort, ax, black out, blot out, break off, cross out, deface, do away with, do in, efface, eliminate, eradicate.. Are you getting the picture here? Cause I sure as hell ain't."

Handing over my Blue IC is definitely up there with all the most traumatic experiences of my life. Along with, getting stalked, getting my first facial, getting a tan (it causes skin cancer!), getting a blow job (the blow dryer really made my hair look terrible).. You get the idea. She put my IC in a plastic baggie and kept it away, like it was evidence at a crime scene or something. I would never get to see my gorgeous face on that card again. But then, I never saw a gorgeous face on that card to begin with, so I guess it's not that traumatic if you think about it.

And there you have it. As i sit here and write this load of crap, I am so relieved that I would never have to set foot in a jungle (against my will, of course. There are *things* I wanna try in a jungle, none of them involving thick uniforms. Then again...), never have to shave off my head, never have to crawl through the mud in a mock attempt at 'finding the enemy (The enemies primarily reside in government buildings, jungles are obviously the wrong places to look) and never have to call anyone 'Sir'.

Well, maybe not the last one ;)

What Star Wars Should Have Been (by SciForums)

A furious lightsaber duel is underway. DARTH VADER is backing LUKE SKYWALKER towards the end of the gantry. A quick move by Vader, chops off Luke’s hand! It goes spinning off into the ventilation shaft. Luke backs away. He looks around, but realizes there’s nowhere to go but straight down.

Darth Vader: Obi Wan never told you what happened to your father.

Luke: He told me enough! He told me you killed him!

Darth Vader: No, Luke… I am your father!

Luke: No. It can’t be. That’s not true. That’s impossible!

Darth Vader: Search your feelings Luke… you know them to be true.

Luke: NOOoooo!

Darth Vader: Yes, it is true… and you know what else? You know that brass droid of yours?

Luke: Threepio?

Darth Vader: Yes… Threepio… I built him… when I was 7 years old.

Luke: No! … Wait, huh?

Darth Vader: Seven years old. And what have you done? Look at yourself. No hand. No job. And you couldn’t evenlevitate your own ship out of the swamp…

Luke: But… I destroyed your precious Death Star!

Darth Vader: But that was when you were 20! When I was 10, I single-handedly destroyed an entire Trade Federation Droid Control ship!

Luke: Well, it’s not my fault…

Darth Vader: Oh, here we go… “Poor me… my father never gave me what I wanted for my birthday… boo hoo, my daddy’s the Dark Lord of the Sith… Nobody loved me… waahhh wahhh!”

Luke: Shut up!

Darth Vader: You’re a slacker! By the time I was your age, I had already exterminated the Jedi knights!

Luke: I used to race my T-16 through Beggar’s Canyon.

Darth Vader: Oh, for the love of the Emperor… 10 years old, winner of the Boonta Eve Open… the only human to ever fly a Pod Racer… right here baby!

Luke looks down the shaft. Takes a step towards it.

Darth Vader: I was wrong… You’re not my kid… I don’t know whose you are, but you sure ain’t mine.

Luke takes a step off the platform, hesitates, then plunges down the shaft. Darth Vader looks down after him.

Darth Vader: And get a haircut!

Album Cover - Sueno Acustico

This is the album cover I did for my acoustic covers. I love the whole, nature-y feel of it. Very organic and real. Of course, I didn't play the guitar myself, so that ruins the whole element of real-ness.

Vintage Movies Galore

There's something very endearing and romantic about old movies. The crap they come up with nowadays (New Moon, anyone?) is barely watchable. Hence I'm going back to the older stuff, days when the words film and quality could stil be used in a same sentence. Of course, if 'quality-load-of-crap' is a word, it could be used with Hannah Montana too.

I watched my first black and white movie today. It's nice to see the world from the eyes of a dog (and no jokes about how I see the world from the eyes of a bitch, even if it may be true) now and then. I'd bought a collection of Marilyn Monroe (may she rest in peace) movies at Grammaphone, and one of the movies is 'Monkey Business'. She doesn't have a very big role in it, and is more of supporting character.

The movie stars Cary Grant, one of THE biggest male movie stars of the days of yore, as a chemist. He was working on a rejuvenating drug that can restore people to the vitality and vigor of their younger days, but to no particular success. When he wasn't looking, a lab chimpanzee called Ester (I don't know how that's relevant) escaped from her cage and mixed a bunch of chemicals together, then poured the mixture into a water cooler. See, i just knew chimpanzees are products of the devil. They rip your face off, and will poison your drink if they get the chance.

Cary and his wife try the drug on themselves, and also took some water to wash it down. The youth drug works to hilarious results, though none of them know it's the effects of the water. Madcap adventures ensues as they revert back to the personality of their younger selves.

Marilyn, as usual, was adorably stunning and delightful to watch. She's really perfected the role of the ditzy blonde, although in the black and white film, her hair is a weird shade of grey. Funny how her hair is not even blonde to begin with, but she's regarded as the most iconic blonde of the twentieth century.

The next film in the collection I'm gonna watch is All About Eve, the famous Bette Davis film that won as many Oscars as Titanic, and one of Mariah's personal favorites =)

The theatrical trailer for Monkey Business:

My Bra (well not *my* bra, per se)

I never knew that My Bra could actually be used as the title of such a touching song. Kara Dioguardi wrote this for the breast cancer movement. She explains the title in the video. Triumph should really use this as their promo song.