I know 2 measly frames do not a killer InstaVideo make…but anyway…ta-dah! Here’s my Mee Siam with upsized tiger prawns & Hokkaido scallops. Extra tamarind & lime because I love it tart. Accepting marriage proposals in the comment section below.
I have forgotten how unpleasant it is to walk down Orchard road on a Saturday. The crowd is scary. And the perimeters of practically every mall are lined with trash bins. And wherever there’s a trash bin, there are trash bin guardians & their nimbus cloud of free radicals & free cancer for everyone. Ugly sight. Bad smells. The kind of bad no amount of perfume or mint can mask. I have to ask. Why cigarettes? Why not heroin, coke or some newfangled designer narcotics we know the really cool people use? A little bit of haze & we complain. A lot of smokers, how? What are we doing to eradicate…I mean, educate & rehabilitate smokers? How about tripling the tax & building designated pretty glass gas chambers everywhere so smokers can go in there & exercise their right to enjoy their vice without befouling the air for everyone else?
Grilled portobello with melted mozzarella & pesto, 4 varieties of cherry tomatoes & spinach babies riding rockets. I call it the Portobello con Pesto Popeye Popped My Cherry Salad.
Isn’t it quaint? It’s laundry day & I have to go to my washer situated in the great outdoors, crawl under this weather-all vinyl sheet of sunflowers & push buttons. This must be what it feels like to be an unloved child. You poor kids! I mean, my mummy loves me but my sheets are so filthy, I’m embarrassed to let anyone clean them for me. Right now, I’m deploying what I understand is a powerful enzyme soak from my mum’s arsenal of cleaning agents. If I murdered someone, I could probably find a bottle of something at home to make the body bubble & disappear. That’s important because I believe there are things on my bolster cover & pillow cases that are very much alive, clinging with a death grip on the cotton fibres, incubating & waiting to be fed just a tad more ball sweat & semen before amassing enough life force necessary to take that quantum evolutionary leap, become a sentient being, sit up in the corner of my bed & begin to score my bedroom performance & judge me for all my bad life decisions. Pillow talk with pillows that talk back. Imagine that.
PG & mum, in the back of a cab.
PG: Wah! Why you have new bling? I want! (tries to get diamond ring off mum’s finger)
Mum: No! You can have it when I’m dead.
PG: That can be arranged, you selfish bitch.
Mum: No manners. Call your mother bitch. Then what does that make you?
PG: Bad puppy.
Check it out! #MyPaper today! A fun wacky theatrical experience for the whole family. Featuring differently-abled performers from 4 charities. Guaranteed to prick & tickle. Don’t be fickle! Grab your tickets from SISTIC today!
Oh, nothing. Just unboxing my new kicks & trying to catch up on current affairs. Will somebody go down & give me the headlines, please? It’s kind of difficult to read with the noonday sun slipping in & the morning paper halfway down my legs. Don’t know why. Something about the scent of new leather… Do you get this way too? Like you want to toss your morning paper on the floor & dance all over the ceiling?
Is Sam Smith the new Adele? Boy George reincarnated? (Wait. BG, alive or dead?) Is this the beautiful sweet sound of the sad, fat & jilted? OMG. Is it contagious?!? Can you catch it listening in the quiet of the night with earphones on? Is it too late to stop when you feel the bare honesty of the words resonate in your bones?
Time for run. Full of dread. Do you create motivation fat-shaming yourself in the mirror or incentivise the exercise with new skimpy attire?
The kind of movie that makes you honest, horny & hungry. It’s got everything I like: Sizzling kitchen close-ups, road trip, landscapes, Latin music, Scarlett Johansson, Robert Downey Jr., friends, accents, a sweet precocious kid with puppy dog eyes, the idea of harnessing the power of the Internet for good, & a chubby daddy chef in the middle of it all, oozing passion & showing off skills in the kitchen, you want him to wear you like an apron & then make you a sandwich after that.
Up bright & early this morning to hang with the cast & crew of #ANIC2014 at Sungei Buloh for our first reading! Can you spot me? You otter be able to!
Come see us!
8 Nov 2014, Sat. 3pm & 7:30pm
Sands Theatre, MBS
Tickets available from SISTIC.
Director: Jonathan Lim
Playwright: Desmond Sim
Featuring over a hundred performers from:
• Association for Persons with Special Needs, • Handicaps Welfare Association, • The Singapore Association for the Deaf, and • Singapore Association of the Visually Handicapped
Stopped watching TV in the tub. I think the moisture wrecked the touchpad on my MacBook. Now it’s acting like it’s been possessed by an evil Ouija board spirit. I need an exorcist & I need one willing to sign a non-disclosure for all the closeted skeletons he might find. Back to books. I want to learn to write like this (see picture). I mean, I enjoy being (sort of) tall & brooding & all. But I wished my writing was short & dryly funny & not belaboured by heaps of puns & rhymes that are a dime a dozen cheap. See what I mean?