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Funny or So I think

Funny or So I think

I’m going to be *famous*

November 13, 2009

For real, y’all. It’s always to be my dream to make it big, you know. Unfortunately, I possess no useful talent whatsoever, which explains why I’m still languishing in obscurity. But Diana Ross told me that dreams never die and I believe her. One day, I’m going to be famous. And I think fame just came knocking on my iPhone.

I’m going to be featured on a real magazine, with photos and all. Like a real celebrity. I think I’ve just hit the big time. Just to make sure, I’m going to send in a photo with me in a beegini and just jeans. That’ll get me some attention. Who knows, I might even get spotted to be the next Miss Singapore World. I can rock leppard printz like you’ve never seen.

Wait, the point I was trying to make was that I got interviewed again. This time on the topic of Happily Ever After. Right up my alley, because I am an expert on this, seeing that I have sustained multiple stab wounds in the last 17 months alone. I only do it when I’m happy, don’t you know. Incidentally, I wrote a post on the pursuit of happiness sometime back but it just didn’t feel right to post it yet, so perfect timing. And after that, I’ll throw in my responses for the interview. The pertinent ones at least.

*****

It seems to me that when you grow older, it takes more for you to be happy. I know happiness is a choice we make blah blah blah, but really, is it all that elusive? Will I turn into one of those jaded old hags who’s scowling all the time because life has no meaning at 85?

When you’re a kid, life’s pretty great. All I was concerned about was whether I could go down to the park at 5.30 to play with my friends. There were exams to contend with, but I just needed to mug the night before the paper and then go in and ace it. I had little tiffs with my BFF over whether Tom or Brad was hotter but then we’d make up and be best friends again.

Back when the husband was just the boyfriend, we didn’t have a lot but it wasn’t a big deal. I remember being happy. We were happy to hold hands and share a bowl of instant noodles under the night sky outside our dorm rooms and talk the night away. We would walk 30 minutes out to grab supper, see a bimmer zoom past and say that one day, it’ll be us in it. But honestly, I couldn’t have cared then if we never owned a sweet topless ride.

““This is all we need. A couple of smokes, a cup of coffee, and a little bit of conversation. You and me and five bucks.”“, we used to say. (Yes, we pilfered it from Reality Bites but it was true, except for the smokes part.)

Then you grow up a little more and you want the fairytale wedding. The fairytale honeymoon. The fairytale mansion. And car. And kids. And bank account. You want it all. Along the way, you start feeling less happy because you’re so caught up wishing you had everything and you lose yourself. Or the version of you that was happy with $5 and good conversation.

The practical me says “it’s for the kids“. I can’t just fly by the seat of my pants and hope for the best all the time. Besides, it’s what grown ups do. Work your ass off, earn a shitload of money, then try to spend it all when you’re 65. You tell yourself that there’s more to life than that (only the poor people say that) but folks with tons of money all think it’s pretty awesome to be obscenely rich.

The husband came home early from work last week and we brought the kids down for a walk after dinner. Tru’s new obsession is the swing at the playground. It’s one of those metal swings that can hold 4 people (or 6 if you’re really tiny). He took us by the hand and made us all sit with him on the swing. So that’s what we did for a long time…without even talking.

It was a profoundly epiphanic moment. Sitting there, I realized that I do have everything I want. And I remembered what it felt like to be happy.

*****

1. What are the key ingredients to having a happily ever after for you?

Lurve. Friendship. Kids. Grandkids. Money. Holidays. White picket fences. Bubble tea. To become really famous and have many servants.

2. How important is having kids to the success of your marriage?

Very important. We love kids so we’d feel like something is missing if we didn’t have any. It’s great to have alone time and all, but at some point you’re going to get bored staring at each other all the time. Kids add a new dimension to the marriage and it’s the ultimate test of how much love you’ve got to give away. I think I’m more in love with Kel after seeing how awesome a father he is. Like I *know* he’s going to take care of me and clean my ass if I ever become retarded.

3. How important do you think sex is to a marriage?

Very important. You NEED the sex to have the kids. Don’t ever believe anyone who tells you otherwise. They’re probably lying. Unless you’re (Mother) Mary, then yes, it’s possible. Also, sex is wonderful. Releases endorphins and gives you reason to take a shower everyday.

4. Do you think that kids and sex are overrated or truly essential to having a happily ever after in a marriage?

If you ask me, they’re underrated. First of all, there’s really no point to getting married if you don’t want the sex. Be BFFs or something. And I don’t mean FWBs. People mix them up these days. Premarital sex is wrong (That’s my slogan for the kids right now). It adds that little bit extra to the marriage. Friendship is great but sex adds the spark, the magic, the fireworks. Usually, when the sex takes a hit, the marriage also takes a hit. Most people overlook the importance of sex AFTER they’re married. Big mistake.

Kids, it’s probably 50-50. I know people who are perfectly happy without kids but we wouldn’t be. The kids really make us happy. It’s tough as hell but there’s nothing like having a mini me to squeeze and cuddle everyday. They’re so tiny and cute and they make you laugh. You can also use them as manual labor once they turn 4.

5. Do you think that your marriage is well on its way to happily ever after? Why or why not?

I see what you’re doing. You’re not going to trick me into jinxing it. Seriously, I don’t know about happily ever after, but we’ve got more happy moments than those please-God-let-me-kill-myself-NOW kind of moments. Isn’t that all we’re looking for sometimes? I’m jaded enough to know that there’s no such thing as happily ever after. So I take the next best thing, which is accumulate happy times and hopefully 30 years down the road, we’ve got enough of those to say that life has been good to us.

6. Do you think it’s realistic to expect a happily ever after in marriages these days? Why or why not?

Again, if you asked me 10 years ago, I’d say yes, give me the dream. Give me the happily ever after. That or nothing at all. But I think age makes you a little wiser. These days, I take happy with a pinch of salt. Because marriage is being happy with each other even when you’re not. Profound, I know.

7. Is marriage and having kids all you expected it to be?

Can’t say I didn’t see this coming. I knew it was tough but really, it’s the extent and intensity of it that knocked me off my feet. I was prepared to grit my teeth through a little bit of pain but it’s been a non-stop, never-ending party since the kids came along. Some days I wish I had more me time and us time before we plunged into having kids. Lesson: The withdrawal method is NOT a real method of contraception.

8. Can you share some tips on how couples can improve the success of their marriages?

I wish there was a secret recipe for success but it’s just a matter of hard work and compromise. You just got to find your groove. Do whatever works for you, you know. But whatever you do, just don’t try S&M. Don’t ask me how I know.

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Funny or So I think, kids inc

I shouldn’t be allowed to talk to children

October 26, 2009

I really like talking to kids. It’s so different from talking to adults because there’s none of that being politically correct nonsense. They don’t beat around the bush and they say it like it is.

Then you grow up and start using euphemisms and double entendres and satire to say something that seems perfectly innocuous but it’s far nastier than just coming out and calling a spade a spade. And sometimes I get so sick of it that I’d much rather be spending my time talking to children. Also because they crack me up.

I have a friend’s kid who’s like the smartest 8-year-old I know. She’s like totally my kind of kid. Smart, witty and insanely hilarious.

Tru's best friends in the whole world

Tru's best friends in the whole world

The awesome thing about 8-year-olds is that they are old enough to really understand stuff and they don’t give two hoots about being politically correct.

Joie: Sometimes I wish I could be a boy. It’s tough being a girl.

Me: It’s fun to be a girl. You can do all sorts of girly stuff.

Joie: No, girls have to get pregnant and give birth. And boys just sit around and play computer games and drink coffee.

Me: Yeah, you’re right. It totally sucks to be a girl.

***

Joie: What are your favorite subjects in school?

Me: Well I liked Literature and a little bit of History. Not so good at Math.

Joie: I like dead bodies.

*stunned silence*

Me: You like what again?

Joie: You know, dead… like died?

Me: Why, why would that even be relevant to the conversation?

Joie: You get to cut up dead bodies.

Me: Ohhhhhhh, like in biology and pre-med. I guess that is kinda cool. You get to cut up frogs and hamsters.

Joie: Can I don’t cut up my hammie?

Me: I’m pretty sure that can be arranged.

***

Joie: Did you watch this show last week where the guy got trapped in the mountains and died and woke up after 4 days?

Me: Er, no. Is it like a true story?

Joie: Ya, it’s a true story. He was frozen and he really died. Then he came back to life after 4 days. And his brain wasn’t working.

Me: Like Jesus? Except that it was like 3 days instead of 4.

Joie: Not really like Jesus. Jesus wasn’t frozen, you know.

Me: Excellent point. Jesus is way cooler.

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Funny or So I think, milestones & musings

Why I’ll probably never have a ginormous jacuzzi in my bathroom

October 15, 2009

You know how sometimes you look back in life and there’s that moment where everything changed. Where there was a fork in the road and you had to choose one or the other. Red pill or blue pill. When your heart is telling you to go one way but your head is screaming out to take the other path. And you’re like “eeny meeny miny moe, let’s flip a coin” because you’re too scared to choose wrong and regret it for the rest of your life. At least if it screws up you can blame it on the damn coin.

Right about this time last year, I had one of those lovely moments.

I did the one thing every person fantasized about doing at one point or another in their career. I swaggered into my boss’ office with the Eye of the Tiger blasting in the soundtrack of my head and threw down my resignation letter. “Hey boss, I QUIT! BTW, this job sucks and I’m being paid way less than I deserve. Plus I’ve been posting ads in the men-seeking-men-classified-column in your name, which should explain all the weird calls you’ve been getting.”

I totally did that in my head, except that my boss was a really nice guy and I kinda liked my job (because I kicked ass at it and it paid me relatively well) and I hate the Eye of the Tiger.

But I did resign from my job to chill out at home and watch Grey’s Anatomy. Oh, and also to watch the little squirt after I wake up from my afternoon siesta. (I only had one back then – kid, not nap).

The quitting was easy once I had made up my mind, but the month leading up to it was agonizing to say the least. The moment Tru was born, I knew that I would be happiest taking care of him myself. We considered every possible childcare option but after 8 days with a maid from hell and visits to countless infantcare centers, I couldn’t bring myself to pick any of them. They all seemed so cold and sterile. I had no doubt that they were all prolific at feeding and nappy changes, but honestly, it just wasn’t good enough.

I need my kids to grow up giggling themselves silly everyday. To stuff cookies up their nostrils and fingers into other orifices and not be taught to sit quietly in a corner. They’ve got to know that Mommy wasn’t too busy chasing the next promotion to sit down and read to them. That when they bump their head and get a boo boo, Aunty Minah is not they first person they run to for comfort. That when they look back on their childhood years from now, they won’t struggle to remember having fun with mama save for a handful of weekends to the zoo and goodnight kisses when they’re already half asleep.

So that’s my heart talking.

But on the other hand, I like having a job. Having adult conversations over a Caramel Macchiato. Having Caramel Macchiatos, period. Dressing up and feeling important productive. Being able to bark orders at minions and use words like “commoditization” and “media engagement”. And most of all, being paid enough to fund my shopping sprees and holidays.

If I really quit my job, that’s half the income up in flames. How would we ever survive? I would  have to stay home and eat raw potatoes everyday (to save on the electricity, duh).

For a month, we butchered the budget and sold off internal organs (only useless ones like the spleen and appendix) and did everything we could to make the numbers add up while I cried myself to sleep every night thinking of Tru all alone in a fancypants infantcare centre. Then finally we decided to bite the bullet and do it. Take the plunge.

It’s been twelve whole months since and I still haven’t eaten the babies (out of hunger or insanity), so great success! I even have my retort all planned out for when the kids ask me why we don’t have an 8-seater jacuzzi in the bathroom. First I’ll whip their asses and then I’ll be all like “Kids, you should be thankful that we don’t have a large ass hot tub in the bathroom because you’d have grown up being tortured by a nut job and become delinquents and eventually incarcerated while daddy and mommy jet-setted around the globe. Then what good would a jacuzzi be? You’re welcome.”

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Funny or So I think, i embarrass myself sometimes

This is what it feels like to be electrocuted

October 9, 2009

I’ve never taken an IQ test in my life. Ever. The reasons are twofold. *Everyone* knows that IQ tests are not the most reliable gauge of one’s intelligence. And by everyone, I mean the stupid people. If I had an IQ score of 175, I’d be saying that IQ tests are THE ABSOLUTE MOST RELIABLE source on the face of this planet. And the second reason is because I’m secretly afraid that I’ll end up with a score of 40, which places me in the top 1% of the most retarded people in the world.

That’s why I don’t do it. And technically, I *could* have an IQ of 175 and be an extraordinary genius. The odds of that are not high, but I’m an optimist like that.

Yesterday, I think my worst fears have come true. I’m actually retarded in the most severe way. I probably shouldn’t even be allowed to roam the streets. The neighbors have been renovating and my house has been covered with a thick layer of dust, so in a bid to win the most awesome mom award, I decided to vacuum the floor so Tru won’t eat more dirt than usual. And thanks to a series of retarded actions, I ended up getting electrocuted. You heard me. E-L-E-C-T-R-O-C-U-T-E-D. Like fried by electricity.

1. Don’t ask me how it happened, but the plug of my vacuum cleaner has taken such a beating that it looks like this.

I risked getting electrocuted AGAIN just to take a photo for you. Because I'm a blogger who cares. That's why

I risked getting electrocuted AGAIN just to take a photo for you. Because I'm a blogger who cares. That's why

2. My mom always told me, “turn off the switch before plugging in any electrical appliance”, but did I listen? No. Obviously.

3. The plug was hanging loose, so I thought, “Ok, just use both my BARE HANDS and push it back in”.

4. As I touched the bare wiring of the plug with my bare hands, I got shocked with like 100 volts of electricity, and the impact of it threw me back several steps and next thing I knew, I was on the floor.

5. I should be dead right about now but I’m not. Obviously. Although my hands are twitching involuntarily and they have lost all feeling.

Yeah, I’m pretty much screwed. And definitely retarded.

After I got electrocuted, all I could think of was oh God, please don’t let me die because I’m too young to die and the husband is going to come home to find a dead wife and 2 screaming kids, one of which witnessed his mother being fried. And what about my hair? People are going to come to the wake and laugh hysterically because I look like Einstein, except blacker.

Seriously, THANK YOU, GOD. And all of you, listen to your mother and don’t touch an open plug with your bare hands because you might not survive to tell the tale.

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Funny or So I think

This post will let you knock out good state of mind

August 26, 2009

Bad english really cracks me up. Wait, let me rephrase that. Unintentional bad english really cracks me up. Now I don’t walk around with a stick up my ass speaking like a stuffy English professor all the time, or the Queen for that matter. In fact, I’m a big fan of the vernacular. Intentional bad English, that’s a whole art form altogether, but it’s the unintentional ones that really do it for me.

We all know the rules of basic grammar. Elementary, my dear Watson. Nothing too complicated, like proper placement of S’s and usage of tenses, which my kids will learn.

Then there are variations to the language in the spoken form, which I also intend to impart to my kids.

1. Brit English

“By golly, I dare say, that’s a smashing piece of scone. Absolutely delightful.”

2. American English

“So you know, I was all like, dude, that’s totally wicked. Seriously, it’s way cool, y’all”

3. Singlish

Eh, where got? Don’t say me like that lah. I don’t friend you then you know ah.”

4. Kazakhstani English

“I am very excite. Please, you come see my film. If it not success, I will be execute.”

5. Barbarella English (I have been trying unsuccessfully for years to perfect this one so you just have to watch it yourself)

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yYcmZ2x2NZE

It’s only when you are trained in the basic rules of the language that you can intentionally bend the rules and create new ones. I have a point here, which I will get to soon.

So over the weekend, while we brought Tru to cut his hair at this lovely little shop over at Plaza Singapura, I was juggling and doing multiple contortions to keep Tru entertained so he wouldn’t get his eye poked out. I turned around to see the husband laughing his head off behind me. The cause of such joviality was an arcade machine inconspicuously placed near the entrance of the shop. It’s one of those machines where a giant hammer is used to smash little animals that would pop their heads out intermittently.

On the machine was a set of instructions to explain the rules of the game. I did not make any typological errors in the following prose. You can click on the image to enlarge it if you don’t believe me.

Invetsmts havn’t the risk, Quickly allies! Throw the once basic coin please

Game is explained: Throw into once basic game beginning, small looable eight mice the reasonis in snccession slow hide in naughty qinck complging with out in the hole. game person is prompt to hit the reaction abilitg ciming to jndge you rates a bit since the general mouse returning to a hde.

Translation: Beat the stupid mice with the stick and you will develop the reflexes of a ninja. Quick, get as many suckers as you can to join in the fun!

[singlepic id=94 w=500 h=332  float=centre]

[singlepic id=96 w=500 h=332  float=centre]

There are so many things that are wrong with this that I cannot begin to talk about it. All I can say is the next time you have a lousy day, take a trip down to Plaza Singapura and head over to the third floor and you will find a colorful shop where babies are swimming in tubs. You will not be disappointed.

knock out good state of mind

I'm sure it does.

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Funny or So I think, i embarrass myself sometimes

To kill a mocking bird

June 30, 2009

big bird.jpg

I know I’m going to incur the wrath of bird lovers out there, but I’m going to say it anyway. I HATE BIRDS, THEY’RE EVIL AND MEAN AND DESERVE TO BE EATEN. I suppose some birds are ok, like chickens, which are juicy and succulent and taste good fried. But most birds are evil. They’ve got sharp beaks and beady eyes (that look like they’re mocking you all the time) and flappy feathers. Worst of all, they steal food and crap all over the place.

I’ve never been particularly fond of birds, but we’ve got this mutual understanding that we’ll keep to our own territories and maintain a truce. They agree not to crap on my head and in return, I won’t poison them with arsenic and rip off their bony legs one by one. But recently, they’ve broken the treaty and now it’s time for war.

Ever since I moved in to my new place, they’ve made it a daily routine to perch their evil asses outside my kitchen window squawking away making a nuisance of themselves. Then they got bolder and started stealing leftover food. And if that wasn’t enough, they’ve been leaving little piles of poop on my stove, table and sink. Now on top of cleaning my kid’s poop, I’ve got to clean bird poop as well.

So this morning, I was cooking Tru’s lunch and this bird flew in right under my nose to try to steal his food. The shock from the sneak attack led to a muscle spasm and I ended up flicking up a whole ladle of boiling porridge right onto my arm. I think subconsciously, I was aiming it at the bird, but somehow it landed on my hand and cooked it, so now it’s all red and swollen.

The bird must have thought it was hilarious, because after that, it was sitting outside my window squawking its head off.

Like I said, I hate birds. They deserve to die. I’ve tried putting stuff at the window to scare them away but they’re way to smart for that. I’ve also set booby traps like poisoned food to kill them, but so far, it’s not working. And it’s driving me insane.

Seriously, if you know of a way to get rid of the birds, do me a favor and let me know. I promise I’ll make it quick and painless and I’ll also try not to relish every moment of it.

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Funny or So I think, lists you should paste on your fridge, pregnancy, sexytime, stuff best described as not safe for parents

Birth induction methods you may (not) want to try

June 25, 2009
pregnantdrinker

a glass of wine may help

It was exactly this time during my first pregnancy that I gave birth to Tru. 38 weeks on the dot. But that was a c-section so I could pick an auspicious date to give birth. Waiting for the contractions to kick in is totally different. I feel so powerless. I’ve got my baby bag and all the baby stuff all ready and packed and it’s like waiting for Santa Claus to appear on Christmas eve. The anticipation is killing me. It’s my control-freak nature kicking in and I  just need to know exactly when it’s gonna happen.

Apparently for VBAC, a medical induction of labor increases the chance of womb rupture so it’s off limits. But I hear there are a few ways to induce birth and give the baby a little push as it were. It’s called ripening the cervix (it’s true!)

1. Acupuncture

It’s a tried and tested method by the Chinese and it’s supposed to be highly effective. Back when women used to bind their feet and slice off their pinkies, they realized that somehow jabbing a bunch of needles into various parts of the body triggers the contractions. It’s ingenious, don’t you think?

But seeing that pain avoidance is one of my life’s goals, acupuncture is in my list of Top 10 things NOT to do before I die (along with bungee jumping and eating fire).

2. Castor Oil

It’s a quick and painless method. Just take a few spoonfuls of it neat and wait a few minutes for it to take effect. It’s primarily a laxative, so there’s that nasty side effect where you lose all control of your bowels and start crapping involuntarily. It’s probably good if you hate the gynae/nurse and want to use it as a way to give them nightmares for days.

There’s no guarantee that it will work though, so you may just end up with a severe case of diarrhea.

3. Walking

This sounds pretty harmless. How it works is that it puts pressure on the cervix, causing it to dilate. Anyway it’s the kind of thing you can try without worrying about nasty side effects.

4. Nipple Stimulation

Touted as one of the most effective methods of natural induction, it’s definitely one of the most wildly popular. Mostly because no dude will turn down an invitation to engage in some nipple stimulation – “Boom-chica-wow-wow”.

But seriously, this causes a release of oxytocin, which causes contractions and lead to labor. (See, I’m not a total airhead, I actually know words like oxytocin)

5. Sexytime

As they say, what gets it in also gets it out. (who says that kind of thing anyway?) This is the next most popular method of birth induction, following closely behind the nipple stimulation.

The difference is, while most women are willing to tolerate some mild discomfort to the boobs, certain invasive methods at 38 weeks of pregnancy are too much of a hassle. There’s also the whole foreplay thing to contend with, and by the time there’s any action, you’re way too exhausted for the time to be the least bit sexy. And the focus is to get something out of there, not put something in, if you get what I mean.

I suppose the best thing to do is to sit around and wait till the baby is good and ready to come out. There’s a Chinese saying that goes something like “When the fruit is ready, it will fall off the vine”. Meaning that there’s no point rushing nature, cos all you’re going to end up with is an unripe fruit. Don’t ask me what that means. It’s too deep for my 38-week-pregnant brain.

If it’s up to me, Kirsten will be born on the 4th of July. So who knows, there might be some serious action on the 3rd. Woohoo!

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