Well, 2006 was actually a more enjoyable year than I thought it would be. Even if I do fail my A levels, and I'm saying this because the -if- in the sentence is really one that hangs in the balance, I'll still look at 2006 as the year of A levels, my very first prom night, getting somewhat legally drunk and Borat, among other things.

2006 was also a year of various stupid acts, among them, betting on USA to win a match at the world cup, rotting my brain at free periods, not studying for exams properly(flashback 2004), not keeping my mouth shut(various moments) and not fulfilling my toilet-roll-long list of new year's resolutions.

Admittedly, 2006 made the shitty year of 2005 worth it. Not that 2006 wasn't a steaming pile itself, just much less so such that the comparison makes it good. Something like my resume against George Bus- Er, Bill Gates.

Looking forward, I'll be trading in my JC uniform for whatever I'll be wearing on that conspicious island known as Pulau Tekong where people shave their heads, do push-ups and run around mindlessly. In case my brain turns to mush by that time(not that it hasn't already) I will save all my posts inside my external hard drive, so that I can at least look at them and be reminded of how needlessly complicated I used to be, while tying bandages with my off-hand.(HAHA MEDIC JOKE KEKE)

I could go into the years after that, where I retake my A levels, fly off to Australia with a briefcase full of money, work for my diploma or incredibly enough actually get into a university, but let's take things one year at a time, yes? A year is, after all, a measurement of time created by humans to achieve order. So let's use it.

Life is a game full of choices, and each time we make one a flurry of new ones pop up till we realise that given the sheer number of choices that we make, it's nigh impossible for us to make the exact combination of choices required to optimize our lives.

Looking at things from another perspective, we can also throw our hands up, the towel in, the cat our of the bag and our gods to the dogs(which also happens to be some sort of spelt-backwards predatory process, I'm sure there's a term for that) and accept that each choice has its own pros and cons, and that the best possible choice will change with time, as both conditions and mindsets are subject to the test of time, on which everyone gets a big fat F. Buying the Nintendo Wii may seem like a good idea now, but it probably won't be when you're staring at you shattered TV screen with half a broken strap attached to your wrist and the other half attached to the controller which had moments ago did a perfect triple-tuck backflip into the glass. Hanging yourself may be a good idea when you just saw Cruse of the Golden Flower, but you'll be regretting your decision when you're standing in the hot, sunny world known as hell without a swimming suit and sunblock to spare.

One of the latest good-bad decisions occurring in recent times has been that of Google, or any company that decides that it's a good idea to leave their servers stranded in the earthquake-riddled Chinaman-filled forsaken land that instead begs to be acknowledged as Taiwan. While Taiwan(or anyplace remotely close to China, in fact) may have enough cheap labour for everyone to star in a Lord of the Rings movie and still have people left over as extras, cameramen, cleaners, translators and a Darth Vader cameo, outsourcing labour really isn't a good idea when one glitch that you can't possibly hope to control screws you and the rest of the world over, losing you millions of dollars, sponsorship deals, kittens and, on the flip side, communists.

On the other hand, if the Earthquake didn't happen, then the bad choice would lie on the people who chose not to take advantage of the cheap labour, because Chinese dudes eat less than Ang mohs, and because rice is cheaper than meat and potatoes.

In short, there's really no way to tell if a decision is good or bad until you actually get down to making it. Sure, you could put on a white coat, tacky glasses and a fake moustache and attempt to analyze it all you want, but there's no way to cheat the time-space continium. Buying Khalid Boulahrouz may seem like a bad idea for Chelsea, and at press time it still is, but nobody is going to be saying that when Jose Mourinho works wonders with him and turns him into a goalscoring machine.

There are, obviously, good and stupid applications to such choices. That cooking class may have turned you into the next Jamie Oliver(good), but as it would turn out Danish pastry is not a good housebuilding material(stupid).

The other thing about choices is that what choices you make also directly influence the choice that others make. The shortcut home might seem like a good choice initially but not so anymore due to the ghost's choice to make it his primary camping ground. Though, if I were a ghost, I would take my mistform as a free air ticket all over the world. Outsourcing servers to Taiwan was a good choice until Mother Earth decided she was getting hungry.

It's been a while since I've made a long post like this, and part of me is wondering whether this was such a good choice in the first place.

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Some stupid comments to finish off the post:

"MOS is totally screwed up, i went there twice and twice i failed to go in, not that its entirely my fault. But then again i really really hate the bouncers there...irritating pieces of pork." -Person X

The dumb part here, is that person X was underaged at the time. When you hate people for doing they're job well, something's wrong. And how is getting bounced "not entirely my fault"? Once again, signs that the generation has been spoilt. The law does exist for a reason. I admit that the law isn't perfect, and it can't ever hope to be, but if it does things about idiots in the world, I don't mind at all.

Well, I'm back from Hongkong. Pretty fun, but not after you come back with swollen,cracked lips and multiple ulcers in your mouth.

Of course, what's a trip without a prelude? Let me say that despite a stupid name like Krisworld, in-flight entertainment is actually less horrible than I imagined it to be. Randomly good movies and episodes of relatively good shows? Oh yes.

When I say "relatively", however, I'm referring to the quality of Hong Kong television, which makes me glad I have small eyes so I can close them more easily. When every other female lead looks like an animal out of a Steve Irwin show and the hot ones get as much airtime as George Michael gets women it just makes me wonder what the media thinks.

There was an Indian family on the same plane to Hong Kong. These people actually looked relatively friendly - Parents, Children, grandfather. Like any family with an infant, it had, well, a bawling infant. Except that, well, she sounded less like a bawling infant and more like a demon who craves for human ears. For someone with a 2-word vocabulary, she could really talk, wearing those words thinner than a teacher's patience. To make things worse, she was on the same bus to the hotel, and on the plane back. People like that render headphones meaningless. With babies like her, no wonder people don't like giving birth anymore.

Somehow, I see the makings of a debator in her.

Anyway, the trip itself wasn't that bad, since hongkong is mostly eating and shopping, can't really go wrong there. Except that the hotel room might as well have been a janitor's closet. The wax museum was a ripoff though ; Other than a few entertaining photos of, among other things, my foot in David Beckham's crotch and my finger up Jay Chou's nose, there wasn't really much else to look at.

On a pleasant note, communication wasn't really all that difficult ; Most of them knew Chinese or English. And speaking in the Hong Kong accent was actually pretty fun when you do it with a straight face and try not to laugh in the face of the guy you're bargaining with.

And that's basically Hong Kong for you. Pretty enjoyable, but also very easy to hate.

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The other prelude to the trip was the party at John's, where I came within an inch of puking into, of all things, an action city plastic bag. Andrew fared much worse than me ; turning red like an overcooked crab, thus making the word "cock" on his shirt more appropriate than it should ever have been. That Denys can't hold his liquor without diluting it to the brim with Coke goes awkwardly well with his lack of leg hair(KEKEKE). And Xi Wei has a new girlfriend who lives 3 Doors Down(OMG PUN) from me.

To everyone who wants to watch Curse of the Golden Flower.....

Don't.

Watching this movie has reminded me of a few things.

1) Why I'm partially averse to Chinese movies.

2) Why I hate Shakespeare.

3) How big China really is, and by deduction :
3a) How China bagged over half the medals at the Asian games.
3b) Why China has such low labour costs.
3c) Why China can solve every problem by throwing enough people at it. Worst case scenario, population control obviously.

First off, this show is one of the sslllloooooowwwwwweeeeeeesssssssstttttttt shows ever. The plot doesn't really seem to get going until the last half hour, and even then you know what's happening, assuming you've read Hamlet in some shape or form.

Secondly, the plot is absolutely atrocious. The King wants Jay Chou to be his heir. The Queen also wants Jay Chou to be the heir to the throne. So why are they plotting against each other?

There's also a scene where this guy and his wife are running away from Ninjas. The guy gives his life to stall them so the woman can turn the corner, where a bunch of archers are waiting to shoot the big bad Ninjas down. What the hell? There shouldn't even be Ninjs in China. And nothing says meaningless death like dying some 10 metres away from reinforcements.

And since this show is in China, everyone, even the medicine woman must have had some Kung Pao martial arts training. Which they somehow lose control of at the right time. You know, like 1 minute before their prescheduled death.

The amount of incest in the story is also rather disturbing. We have the 40-something year old queen who before the movie started has been sleeping with the prince. Then, we have the medicine woman sleeping around with the very same prince, who she later finds out is her brother. This is then followed by an awkward scene where she runs screaming across the palace courtyard for a full minute or so. You know those comedies where people scream, catch their breath and continue screaming? She actually does this, except that the audience is supposed to take this seriously. Chow Yun Fat also kills his annoying childish youngest son.....by repeated spanking with a strap. If you're into that kind of thing good for you, but that was kinda disturbing.

If nothing else, at least the fight scenes were mildly watchable, but when the climax consists of a bunch of golden guys versus a bunch of silver guys, with no detail whatsoever, it gets pretty boring. It's also kinda funny how the general says take Jay Chou alive, and two seconds later millions of arrows are fired at his army. And he still manages to survive the onslaught. Watch the show and you'll understand. Wait, don't bother watching the show.

On a surface level, there isn't much wow factor to the show anyway ; Girls will probably like Jay Chou, even though he doesn't exactly feature an awful lot, what with cameos for the first 90 or so minutes before getting his butt kicked the last 30. Gong Li really isn't much to look at, and the rest of the cast is in fact rather stale.

In conclusion, I would compare this to The Promise, with all the retarded plotlines and less fluffy action scenes but more Shakespearan over-the-top emotions. It will appeal to emo people but for the most part it's very disappointing and not deserving of whatever high ratings it gets.

And if I can be bothered to write a post this length telling everyone how bad it is, you know it's bad.

It is very difficult to write freely these days.

One of the worst situations that can befall a blogger has descended on me : overwhelming boredom. Now that I don't have anything exciting to do, I don't have anything exciting to talk about. Change and innovation are the keys to having fun, which aside from making money and other overrated agendas is our goal in life. And due to lack of it, thus inspiration is harder to come by. When the best you can think of is "[blank] is fun", "I am never going to [blank] again" or "[blank] and [blank] does not bode well for a typical human stomach", you know something is wrong.

How much can you credibly write on some issues anyway? You spend one paragraph talking about the pros, maybe another paragraph talking about the cons, and the rest then descends into mindless dribble that threatens to turn the reader's brain into care-bear-shaped jelly.

It gets worse for Professional writers that go beyond the two sentences from so-called "celebrity bloggers" who are only named so because they get two lines published in the papers every week. One wrong move, and a thousand men in black suits and sunglasses come knocking on your door. 998 of them then realise you're not Mr. Anderson, and you're left with the two troublesome ones who put you in front of a goofy old guy in a white wig. And then you go to jail.

Word limits become a pain in the ass as well. See, most publications have a word limit. After a certain amount of words, you run out of adjectives and have to resort to using words like "itchies", "scratchies" and "snuzzlebunnies". Can you actually say "LKY is the absolute retarded nutterbutters of all time" and get it published? Without getting deported to a far-off African nation? At the very least?

Innovation, then, is required to mitigate this crime against writers. It begins with a few subtle words to insidiously draw readers in, and ends with them gawking at ingenuity, alerting the presses, doing all they can to get you on TV and making everyone jealous. Who's to say that person can't be you? Is there any reason you can't be the person who realises allowing gay marraiges are the key to ridding the world of homosexuals? Or that Hayden Chistensen is actually a distant relative of Ali G? Go on, there's nothing stopping you. Get cracking! Go to the library and start researching! Get caught in abstract thoughts till the universal truth dawns on you!

Or, if you're terribly uncreative like me, just switch off and let your hands do the work on the keyboard.

There was an article in the papers about job interviews evolving and how to handle them. Somehow, I don't really understand why a boss would ask how his employee would deal with failure, because a good employee would be one who never fails. I'm convinced that half the time these questions are trick questions, and the interviewer is in fact doodling on his sketch pad.

In fact, unless your resume is thick enough to be bound in hardcover and disguised as a dictionary, how people hire you is rather arbitrary. Even primary school admission is random at times, and all the "careful selection" and "meticulous consideration" you hear about are in fact lies to uphold the image of a hardworking community, because humans are, at the end of the day, creatures of sloth.

I have absolutely nothing to do.

Anyone else thing the gun looks like an oversized two-headed penis?

Humans like big effects. I'm not sure if we just retain a speck of childishness in us throughout our lives, or that people intrinsically like watching stuff blowing up and things being settled in one fell swoop, but we do. There's no doubting the power of such events - World War 2 was only declared over after the atomic bombs were dropped. And while it has been the basis of several irrational endings to shows, movies and books alike, we're still a fan of them because, hey, it's big!

If I could teleport to any moment back in time, I'd go back to 1945 and watch Nagasaki get bombed. Destruction is as beautiful, if not more beautiful than creation, opposites they may be. For point of reference, burn your notes and take a picture of your gleeful face. A death of a great man means that an era of new great men is ushered in. It signals change. For better or for worse, nobody knows, but change is change, and change is big, so I like change. Heck, even small change is good, since it means I'm getting richer.

0mgz0r w4t 4 1337 pUn!!!!!!1111

Because the world is round and has limited space, destruction absolutely has to occur before creation can take place. You could almost say destruction paves the way for creation. Boon died in Lost so they could introduce new characters. In fact, you could probably look forward to more in season 3 since they killed off Anna-Lucia, Libby, Michael and Walt(well, technically). Now that Zidane's made way, we can look forward to a(an?) Henry-led France team. And when they kill Elmo...

Ah well, one can always dream about his unfulfilled childhood fantasy.

Destruction is a necessity, however evil it may be. People may call it barbaric, cruel, unfeeling or the brainchild of Britney Spears, but the face remains that it will always be there in one way or another. Embrace it, and laugh gleefully.

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On a side note, I have absolutely nothing to do with my off-days! Which is bad.

Reference : http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/south_asia/6161691.stm

A survey of more than 1,000 men in India has concluded that condoms made according to international sizes are too large for a majority of Indian men.

The study found that more than half of the men measured had penises that were shorter than international standards for condoms.

It has led to a call for condoms of mixed sizes to be made more widely available in India.

The two-year study was carried out by the Indian Council of Medical Research.

Over 1,200 volunteers from the length and breadth of the country had their penises measured precisely, down to the last millimetre.

The scientists even checked their sample was representative of India as a whole in terms of class, religion and urban and rural dwellers.

The conclusion of all this scientific endeavour is that about 60% of Indian men have penises which are between three and five centimetres shorter than international standards used in condom manufacture.

Doctor Chander Puri, a specialist in reproductive health at the Indian Council of Medical Research, told the BBC there was an obvious need in India for custom-made condoms, as most of those currently on sale are too large.

The issue is serious because about one in every five times a condom is used in India it either falls off or tears, an extremely high failure rate.

And the country already has the highest number of HIV infections of any nation.

Mr Puri said that since Indians would be embarrassed about going to a chemist to ask for smaller condoms there should be vending machines dispensing different sizes all around the country.

"Smaller condoms are on sale in India. But there is a lack of awareness that different sizes are available. There is anxiety talking about the issue. And normally one feels shy to go to a chemist's shop and ask for a smaller size condom."

But Indian men need not be concerned about measuring up internationally according to Sunil Mehra, the former editor of the Indian version of the men's magazine Maxim.

"It's not size, it's what you do with it that matters," he said.

"From our population, the evidence is Indians are doing pretty well.

"With apologies to the poet Alexander Pope, you could say, for inches and centimetres, let fools contend."

--

If this doesn't revive my lost racist tendencies, I don't know what will. That aside, there's a lot of unintentionally funny stuff in there.

Normally, staying at home would be a boon. Peace and quiet, ample sources of entertainment and a nice cold drink at the side while you're at it would normally make for a nice relaxing afternoon(not morning, because I sleep the morning away).

However, it seems some of VJ's leftover MonkeyBirds have decided to migrate to the neighbourhood. So now I wake up to the tune of "KAKAKAKAKAKAKAKAKKAKAKA!!!!!" And that's not the sound of Brazilian soccer fans.

It also seems that holidays are a signal for parents to engage their children in meaningless activities. This seems to include picking up musical instruments. Which really gets irritating after a while. The clarinet/trumpet player does it bright and early at 7am, which adjusts my sleeping position to one where I jam my head in between two pillows. Speaking of jam, the 15-year-old opposite has decided to start his own band. To their credit, they are a committed bunch, but 9 hours of repeated tunes isn't exactly my idea of music. and while they're not at his house, he practices the drums over. and over. and over. He has a promising career as a metronome.

Suddenly, staying at home isn't as enjoyable and endeavor anymore.

Sooo......

Prom was a bust. If it wasn't for all that seeing-you-for-the-last-time thing I would've called it a waste of money, seeing that each person paid $95 for essentially ten-dollar food and two-cent performances. No offense to any of the performers who read this, but it was forgettable.

If anybody who took a picture with me wants it, feel free to contact me! /shameless plug

After a night over with classmates, I stumbled home with bloodshot eyes, a sense of balance previously possessed only by bulls attempting to stand on one leg, and body odour rivalling elephant dung coated in soot with a lining of Belgian fingernails, drenched in a German shepherd's urine. Obviously not remembering much, I woke up to find my room in shambles. Either I haven't been cleaning my room as often as I'd like, or my snores register a 500.2 on the Richter scale.

Work, on the other hand, has been oddly fun, except for the fact that while all the cute girls ignore me, I seem to be rather popular with the aunties. Which is rather disturbing. The first paycheck seems an awfully long time away, seeing as how my finances are currently more overstretched than a hooker's genitals.

10 Notes I need to make to myself :

1) Always eat wholemeal bread at home first, mold is harder to see on wholemean bread.

2) Pliers are not the solution to a song stuck in your head.

3) Get a transparent jug to put water in, lest said jug contains a cockroach.

4) Falling asleep in the middle of a movie is only a waste of money if the show isn't more than 3 hours long.

5) Pool sticks are meant to hit the balls on the table.

6) "Hello sir, you look like you could use some help satisfying your wife!" is not a good opening line for a viagra/potency drug salesman.

7) Bar soap is not advisable in NS.

8) Not all glass doors slide open for you.

9) Taxi drivers are really retired stunt doubles/Nascar drivers.

10) Prata is one of the most versatile food items around. Very soon we'll be having sandwich-flavoured prata for lunch, wan ton prata for lunch and McPrata for dinner.

7 questions I am going to have make notes about sometime soon :

1) Did I remember to take the milk out of the freezer?

2) Is 3 hours enough for milk to chill in a freezer?

3) If churned cheese makes butter, if I toss frozen milk around or play kickabout with it, would I get butter?

4) Isn't allowing gay marraige a way of wiping homosexuals off the face of the earth?

5) Is mentos + coke fact or fiction?

6) Do you bring shampoo into NS?

7) How many shots can a person take before being drunk?

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It seems idleness is the key to random acts of both creativity and stupidity. At some point, you'd think they'd be interchangeable.

Most things are never as fun or enjoyable as they look, mostly as a result of overmarketing.

They include birthdays. I am staying away from alchohol for a really, really, long time. Mostly because it's expensive, my IQ drops to somewhere around the region of -200 when drunk, and developing an addiction for it is unhealthy. That, and it tastes like crap most of the time. It's more of the kick out of alchohol than the drink itself. Which again, tells me that teenagers these days can be dumbasses.

They include food. Some food can look really nice. Like, bright-background-with-sparkles-around-dishes kind of nice, or even anime-style-beams-of-light-shining-out-of-food kind of good. But as a self-proclaimed hyphen-crazy fanatic eater, I should know better. In the last 24 hours, I've had calm-inducing food that goes smoothly through the digestive system, as well as food so bad, it's almost like having a crack-induced Michael Schumacher drifting around the bends of your intestines and racing past the finishing anus-line, with a throng of rival formula one drivers, Initial D and Fast and the Furious tryout candidates and large Power Ranger-esque monsterbots hurtling down the 40cm gullet drop, leaving a terrible taste in the mouth. With shit to solid and dense the toilet water would leap up and out of the toilet bowl, effectively saving three entire minutes of the cleaning lady's time. Which would be an improvement over eating one too many bananas and crapping in freefall mode. Then again, most of the crap comes from my mouth. And my fingers.

You can go puke now.