Beer Drinkers And Hell Raisers II

Hmm.

Today passed in a blur of colour, humour and pain in the legs. First thing in the morning, I woke up to the sound of my brother's radio alarm clock blaring the pancakes out of his room. I suppose I can't blame Brother Dearest.. he tends to sleep very late (or early in the morning, to be more accurate) and hence, he is supremely unable to wake up before 10am on saturday mornings.

Alvin came around 10:10 am... and we proceeded to work on our mouse project. We're both doing different mouse designs, but I guess ergonomically both of ours are on the same level of comfort. The problem is, I had previously applied the emulsion paint without the thinner, then I had made the mistake of blowing the thing dry using a hair-dryer. The end result was like some form of blue-white concrete... not the effect I desired.

Therefore, I had asked Alvin to bring along his wall putty in order for me to salvage my mouse model.. because I can see no way in which I can use emulsion paint to finish off this model... it's simply too tricky to work around with, and simply too much work involved.. so I'll just use wall putty to encapsulate my model, and sand it down.

Currently, it's (hopefully) receiving it's third last coat of wall putty to fill up the small holes, before I wake up tomorrow and sand it down and add some more coats to ensure the whole thing as smooth as silk.

Work just now was a very boring affair, although I did meet up with Jose, who commended me on my 'performance' on Wednesday, quoting him, he said:

'It was a very huge improvement from the first time I saw you sing... you were much more natural, much more at ease and definitely much better vocally, and guitar-wise it was very good as well... good job!'

Hehe... I suppose I'm not really keeping in line with my mother's request for me to never sing at the pub again. The total tally of times I had played has already reached 7, with her telling me to stop after the 2nd time :p

The whole 5 hours I spent in the pub was such a bore: although the rugby was on, very few people turned up and most of them were not even interested in the match itself. However, there was a slight quirk around 10:30, when I was having a small conversation with a new colleague at work.

David is a Frenchman who is married to a Singaporean wife. Apparently, his wife is older than him by 4 years, but that is not the issue here. His command of the English language, while not very high, has already been punctuated by elements of Singlish culture, and also by the fact that he uses the word 'F***' almost with second-nature ease.

For example:

'Hey, I saw this girl just now... f***ing beautiful, with f***ing big boobs, and f***ing great body! I f***ing said to myself, "whoa, f***, this girl has to be a f***ing rare breed" yeah, f***ing beautiful woman'

To which I would respond with:

'Just keep it hanging, mate... you're married after all!'

Thing is, he and I were just talking about the different views of Molly's and Townhouse from the CCTV screen, and one of Townhouse managers, Tye, was also present:

David: 'hey, that girl there (my colleague), do you think she's my type?'

Crawldaddy: 'man, she's already got a boyfriend'

D: 'Ah.. don't f***ing matter, asian girls f***ing lie to you like *that* (snaps fingers) without no f***ing problem'

C: 'well, I met her boyfriend before, and that's a very general way of speaking, my friend'

D: 'Ah well... I'm only 36'

C: '46?' (I had heard wrongly)

D: '36! F*** man, I'm not that old!'

C: 'haha alright then'

D: 'hmm... anyway, how old are you?'

This is a classic question for me, simply because I get the kicks out of people guessing my age wrongly, and when I do reveal my true age, they simply cannot believe it.

C: 'Why don't you make a very good guess'

D: 'hmm... 33? 32 years old?'

Tye: (snorts in disbelief)

C: 'you seriously think I'm, say, between 33 to 35 years old?'

D: 'Tye, how old are you? I'm thinking you are roughly 35 as well?'

Tye: 'I'm around 35-36 years old'

C: 'So you think I'm roughly two years younger than Tye over here?'

D: (nods) 'F*** yeah'

C: I'm actually 18, my friend'

D: 'F*** off! No way!'

I then proceed to show him my IC, and then he just looks at me and says:

D: 'You look so much older than what you really are'

C: 'Well, it's both a good thing, and a bad thing'


Which is perfectly true... sometimes I wish I can look my age, but then again, I'm thinking of my peers who look so much younger than their real ages. Sometimes, with youth also comes the fact that people may not take you seriously, and just simply brush you off... I guess I have overcome that obstacle with flying colours.


Cheers,

Crawldaddy