AhSengz's Xanga

Crossroads

Wed, 09 Jul 2008 01:58:42 GMT

This song has been put on repeat mode on my windows media player and been searing into my brain.

ANGELS or DEVILS

This is the last time
That I'm ever gonna come here tonight
This is the last time - I will fall
Into a place that fails us all - inside

I can see the pain in you
I can see the love in you
But fighting all the demons will take time
It will take time

The angels they burn inside for us
Are we ever
Are we ever gonna learn to fly
The devils they burn inside of us
Are we ever gonna come back down
Come around
I'm always gonna worry about the things that could make us cold

This is the last time
That I'm ever gonna give in tonight
Are there angels or devils crawling here?
I just want to know what blurs and what is clear - to see

Still I can see the pain in you
And I can see the love in you
And fighting all the demons will take time
It will take time

The angels they burn inside for us
Are we ever
Are we ever gonna learn to fly
The devils they burn inside of us
Are we ever gonna come back down - come around
I'm always gonna worry about the things that could break us

If I was to give in - give it up
- and then
Take a breath - make it deep
Cause it might be the last one you get
Be the last one
That could make us cold
You know that they could make us cold
I'm always gonna worry about the things that could make us cold

Music: Dishwalla and G. Wattenberg

Drive-by blogging

Wed, 06 Feb 2008 02:18:32 GMT

Ok quick post :

Will be attending the World GSM conference 2008 in Barcelona.

Leaving this Sat night.

B'day and V'day will be spent in Spain....bleah.

Oh well, work is work.

Tuesday, January 22, 2008

Tue, 22 Jan 2008 08:06:22 GMT

Note to self : Update your blog soon lazybones!

EDGY

Mon, 27 Aug 2007 05:16:24 GMT

Now I just attended a four-hour course on Knife-Fighting last Saturday. The aftermath includes, bundles of sore muscle tissue, a battered big toe, intimate knowledge of the usage of edged-weapons and a heightened sense of confidence should I ever get involved in an ugly argument with an enraged butcher.

I particularly liked the part where we learnt how to deal maximum damage with everyday pointed objects like pens. I'll never look at office stationery the same way again. Even now I'm marvelling at the makeshift armoury that is my desk. Mechanical pencils, ballpoint pens, metal rulers, keys.......office essentials.....instruments of punishment and mayhem.

Good luck to the next colleague who siddles up to me to start an annoying lecture on the effect of MSN on work productivity.

For one of the drills, we had to evade the strike of a would-be attacker. I believe Brandon coined this technique "Limb-Cutting". This involves using nifty footwork to get into safe range while simultaneously slicing the outstretched arm of the attacker as he tries to stab you. Piece of cake right? Wrong.

A little Wing Chun voice in my head kept screaming " Block the attack, trap his arms, jam his momentum and chain punch his head into kingdom come! " I had to fight my instinctive agressiveness from all my prior WC training every inch of the way. Brandon kept hammering away with this axiom : " Get away....AND take a piece of him with you, let them bleed out. " As such, I felt like a little vicious piranna.....a vicious piranna with a rubber knife. Dodge and slice, dodge and slice, dodge and slice, wash, rinse and repeat.

Cowardly you, watching your attacker slowly bleed to death from all those nicks and cuts.........GOOD

Agressive you, standing over your comatose attacker, pumping your mangled arms in the air in victory......BAD

Other highlights of the course include : Getting my right foot stomped on by the instructor repeatedly as he demonstrated the drills, Accidentally palm-striking Alex's face......HARD (thank god he was wearing safety goggles), admitting to myself that my once-brilliant footwork has gone to the dogs and discovering that I now have the lung capacity of a 5-yr-old girl.

Oh and all that lightning-fast lunging has killed my left calf muscle. Killed it dead.

My 'Pimp Walk' is now my default walk. Swaggerin around like a badass rapper with a bullet wound in my left leg. Charmingly cocky on the outside, excruciatingly painful on the inside. So ladies, if you see me pimping down the street, don't swoon..........empathize.

Welcome back to the world of Martial Arts you wimp.

Sengz, out.

Seng Han learns to rock

Fri, 17 Aug 2007 05:41:40 GMT

Now for those of you who are my close personal friends, you'll know three idiosyncracies of mine :

1) I hate kiwi's. The fruit, not the people. Anything with fur on it doesn't qualify as a fruit. They are hairy aliens in disguise. Trust me.

2) I'm petrified of werewolves and get all paranoid when the full moon blazes in all its lunar glory in the night sky.

3) I despise those pussies from Micheal Learns To Rock.

Having being brought up on a staple of GnR, Metallica, Def Leppard, Bon Jovi and Soul Asylum, it is understandable why MLTR leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. " How so?" you ask.

Real rock bands have :

1) Outlandish fashion sense like dressing up in top hats and floral scarves.

2) Amputees as drummers

3) A lead singer with a voice forged in the heat of a million sticks of Marlboro Reds and baptised in an olympic-sized swimming pool of Jack Daniel's.

4) Broken hearts that can only be mended by blowing someone away with a .44 magnum or getting a blowjob from a groupie........sometimes both.

5) Tight leather pants and walk like they're hung like a Silverback Gorilla on steroids.

MLTR's squeeky clean image has been tarnished by none of the above. PFFT! Their wholesome image makes Mother Theresa look like a Tranny in fishnet stockings with a drug habit.

So, a couple of days ago, I was doing my usual karaoke pub thing and was singing 'The Actor' in my best "choir boy" voice. Kev gave me the most incredulous look. I think he couldnt be more surprised if I told him I wanted to get a brazillian wax done by a gay WWF wrestler. ( gives a whole new meaning to "choke-hold" huh? )

So anyways I thought I would explain myself.

I heard 'The Actor' recently on radio and had a chance to really pay attention to the lyrics. They reminded me of a time when I was in a very bad head space, floundering in despair.....before fully embracing my P.U.A persona. Very bittersweet indeed, a poignant reminder of my A.F.C days.

Anyway, MLTR is still a bunch of pussies.

" I just can't tell you I love you so......even though my odds are low..."

BLEAH!

Why Singaporean men have a leg up on Aussie men

Wed, 08 Aug 2007 02:16:50 GMT

I was recently reading one of the 'man mags' ( Maxim I think, can't really remember which ), contained within was an interview with uber hottie, Jaymee Ong. She goes on to wax lyrical on why she would rather date an expat than a local guy. Granted, caucasians are usually blessed with nicer facial features like deep set eyes, razor sharp cheek bones, eyes of mesmerising hues, etc. Also, it's kinda unfair that a 3-day growth of stubble makes 'em look 'rugged', while it simply makes us of chinese descent, look like Lao Fu Zhi.

Anyways, here are some reasons I've come up with, detailing why it ain't so bad dating a local dude :

1) We don't perpetually smell like we've been rolling about on a slab of raw meat. Most probably due to the fact that we take regular showers.

2) We're not hard-wired to scream " OI! OI! OI! " like a daft dingo everytime someone goes " AUSSIE! AUSSIE! AUSSIE! "

3) When we get high on " Stubbies ", it usually means laughing our socks off at a Moses Lim or Selena Tan play.....rather than getting sloshed on bottled beer.

4) We don't morph into mono-syllabic morons while watching a horde of men fight over an inflated pig skin on telly.

5) We don't grumble that our mouth tastes like a wombat's scrotum after a sitting of sashimi.

Anyways, this is all very tongue-in-cheek so don't get me wrong, I have lotsa Australian friends and I reckon they're awesome.

Oh and not all of us strapping s'porean lads still stay with our folks, thus doing away with the awkward post-coital morning-after parental intro of your date, " Hi mum, this is erm......ah......hey what did u say your name was again? "

Peace out y'all ;)

Fishing At Pasir Ris Pond

Mon, 23 Jul 2007 04:14:47 GMT

Ok, no time for grandmother stories. Just photos and captions this time. Went fishing with the missus and her mum.

Landing these huge fish on light line, requires skill, patience and truckloads of luck.

This beauty was caught by Denise's mum, apparently, it's a taiwanese cousin of the Mulloway. It's a beautiful fish when steamed with kiam chye.

Yes, we need a bigger box.

The mulloways' choice of bait, live prawns.

The silver promfret is not only an excellent table fish, but helluva feisty fighter when caught, delighting us with its tireless runs and aerial display of flips.

Playing my part as a kitchen hand, de-gutting and scaling the fishes while the resident chef ( aka Denise's mum ) prepares to work her magic.

I'm hoping to land a seabass, red snapper or grouper the next time round.

Ok lah, I know this was a damn boring post. More vintage witty story-telling the next time round k.

INCREDIBLE TAILS

Mon, 09 Jul 2007 04:19:07 GMT

On my way to work this morning, I was just entering AYE when I almost ran over a squirrel AGAIN! I'm not sure if it's the same one, but it had the exact same luxuriously bushy tail as the last one. It dashed across the road and it missed being turned into road kill by my tyres by just a couple of centimeters.

I'm thankful I didnt run the poor critter over though, would have totally wrecked my karmic blance sheet, not to mention painted my tyres a ghastly shade of red. I wonder what's up with all these kamikaze squirrels anyway. Have they evolved to become as jaded with life as humans today, or have they been afflicted with suicidal tendencies, courtesy of some smug female squirrel, sitting all pretty in a tree somewhere?

Or is it simply because I'm starting to look increasingly like a big nut? Ok nevermind, don't answer that.

PRAWN FISHING

Mon, 11 Jun 2007 04:09:51 GMT

For some strange reason, I've been struggling to complete my blog entry on my latest survey trip. Oh well, hopefully I'll get it done by this century.

Here's a short entry in the meantime :

Yesterday over our Botak Jones dinner, we were discussing the best way to spend a lazy Sunday evening. Kev suggested doing something that we've never done before. I came up with the idea of prawn fishing ( since I've always wanted to try my hand at it myself ), which was subsequently recieved warmly by everyone....so off we went.

We used chicken hearts as bait, which the prawns seemed to love. However, the prawns were pretty finicky eaters and got spooked easily. They would nibble at the bait and swim away as soon as they felt us tugging at the line. I kept singing The Backstreet Boys' " Quit playing games with my heart ", much to the annoyance of everyone, ha ha ha.

Pete gloating. Having caught the first catch of the day.

Kev and his star catch. Apparently this prawn has a Calinfornia Fitness membership, check out those arms.

It's ok getting drunk while prawn fishing. One merely has to lean over and puke into the pond. Mess free.

The biggest alcoholic finally makes it after getting lost in her own neighbourhood. *snigger*

Yes, smoking is bad for crustaceans too.

Group hug

Group hug II

Cooking the catch

We're planning on making full use of the BBQ pits provided the next time we head down. It'll be helluva lot of fun doing a BBQ cum prawn fishing thing. Juicy steaks, succulent crabs and freshly caught prawns. Washed down with an assorted variety of alcohol to the tune of Seng's off-key singing. Doesn't get better than that. Will round up more troops for our next outing. The more the merrier.

Yogyakarta

Tue, 15 May 2007 12:48:48 GMT

I sat under a shady tree, utterly enthralled by the sight of these two little boys playing with a kite they made out of paper, sticks and twine coiled around an empty Milo tin. After a couple of tentative trials, they finally got lift-off, and squealed in pleasure as their kite floundered in the air like a drunken pigeon.

I couldn’t help but smile as this scene reminded me of my childhood days, growing up with my pals Kevin and Peter. Our toys then were of like variety, branches we picked up and hoarded jealousy, later to be brandished with pride.

It’s amazing how almost all kids are equipped with a strong imagination, I used to say things like “ This is Excalibur! My new gleaming double-handed broadsword, complete with jewelled pommel! “ while prodding my friends menacingly with a skinny branch. Kev would always yell : “ Sparks fill the air! “ in his faux baritone every time he skilfully parried the thrust of my ‘sword’ with his, bark flying everywhere.

My musing was interrupted when the boys’ mother noticed the handsome yet sinister-looking stranger crouched under a tree, watching her kids with a silly smile plastered on his face, and decided that play-time was over.

TSK!

Azmy and I, having brekky. For this trip, we decided to do something different and rent a room in a home-stay instead of a hotel. We stayed in this huge mansion that was almost 80 years old. It had really intricate and quaint décor that reeked of Balinese and Dutch influence. In the day time, the place was bright and airy and had a really cheerful feel to it………..BUT, come nightfall, the place started to take on a slightly malevolent light.

Here’s a view of the left wing of the mansion at night. Complete with balcony on the third floor. And no, I didn’t cut and paste the pic from www.amityville.com

Here are some of the hauntingly beautiful statues adorning the entrance of the mansion.

Some shots of the living room.

The Invisible Man reclined lazily on a wicker chair in the garden and said to his 3 pals, “ Hey guys, long time no see. “

An intricately made mirror on the wall of the family library, sans Sadako combing her hair.

An interesting contraption, built into the dunny. What it does is squirt a jet of water up towards your nether regions. Azmy had an amusing experience with this. Once, after a pee, he mistook the ass-washing-device lever for the toilet flush and activated it. It was a hilarious sight indeed when he stumbled out of the toilet cursing and swearing, with a large wet patch on the front of his pants.

Checking out the view from the scary balcony.

The apprentice.

What's 356,700 rupiah converted to Singapore dollars? Doing mental currency conversion is like doing yoga with the brain.

Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the baddest, most kick-ass, survey team of them all?

Indulging in one of my favourite hobbies in the family library.

Relieved that the back-to-back mission was completed without a hitch. Looking forward to heading home but dreading the 2-week-old list of household chores that await my return.