I haven’t been writing for quite a bit and as the entry below has kinda hinted, it’s because I’ve been conscripted. Sure, I mean I have some (little) time in there, but there really isn’t much time to defrag my thoughts. Ah heck, it’s mostly because I’m a lazy fuck.

Oh look, a vulgarity.

Anyhow, the reason I’m checking back in is to sort of occasionally document and compartmentalize a particular section of my life, and because I’m waiting for some videos to load. In here, you really learn to maximize time by conducting simultaneous activities all in a time frame. It’s like you gotta brush your teeth while you are texting and sitting at the toilet bowl. Also, there seems to be an alarming declination of my English standard.

So this can be considered as an English revision exercise.

2 weeks has passed since my time in the new training school and the activities conducted were mostly the comfy administrative whatnots and loads of lectures. A real test of mental capacity, that one. Still, compared to what is to come, I’m not complaining. I mean, my bunkmates and I prone on our beds every night playing pokemon like some 8 years old kids.

8 years old slave kids by day, 8 years old pokemon master by night.

Compared to the previous training institute, we definitely have more freedom. We get more time to do our own stuff and gained autonomy in deciding when things are to be done as long as they are completed on time. It’s like we are remotely human. But perhaps we are getting ahead of ourselves. On the downside, the food is incredibly repulsive. Every time I’m done with my earthly businesses in the toilet, I rack my brains trying to figure out what I had for the previous meal. Then I just gave up all together since what goes out does not differ significantly from what usually goes in.

But now I can finish a meal in 5 minutes! Woohoo! Maximum Efficiency achievement unlocked.

Also, in about 6 weeks time, the posting for my next phase in training will be released. Hopefully I can get into a wondrous place with less physicals and more admin time and relaxation. Maybe as an admin or logistics or transport specialist.

Or maybe,

Provost. Pride, Discipline, Honor.

HI MILITARY INTELLIGENCE CREWS, ARE YOU STALKING ME.

Either way, I’m pretty sure it’s because my body that has been tuned to wake up at this god forsaken hour. For the past 16 days, this slab of muscle, bones and fats have been forced to start revving at about 5.15am and do physicals right about this time. Every dawn, a part of the soul withers and dies when the chorus of alarm blares echoes from various beds in the bunk.

[Note: I try to leave out specific words to avoid detection via keyword searches by a particular organization. But i'm sure they have other ways to track if they intend to. So here's also a hi to them in advance)

So this dawn had been a real breather for the body and soul. Strangely, as I look around my room now, which is dimly lit by the dispersed streetlights cascading in from the window, it looks foreign but feels calming.

Actually, everything not from that offshore island feels different. Typing on the iPhone I had used for months seems strange and the daily rituals I had been carrying out for years feel a tad bit alien. The body remembers the sequential process but the mind is slightly muddled. It’s like I’m not as grounded to home anymore.

Which is probably why I had a flurry of emotions when I woke up this morning and remembered that my time home is now only temporary. Initially, the past 16 days just felt like an extended dream which did not happen. But the dull ache all over my body gently advises otherwise and my heart just sank at that thought.

Maybe after that many days of conditioning, my mind has registered that island place as the new home and my home here in bedok, a hotel. In a way that’s good since it demonstrates the body’s adaptability, but it is also kinda sad. I don’t want all the regimental stuff to be the focus of my life; I rather it just be a fraction of it.

Like, I wanna have a core life and every passing chapter remains as such and doesn’t define what I am and what I do at any point of time. I don’t think I’m making much sense, but it’s kinda like how I don’t want my career to be the main focus of my life in the future, with other factors (family, fun and social activities etc) accommodating to it.

Right now I guess it’s hard, since I have to do what i got to do for about 85%-90% of my time for 2 years. Adaptability will probably ensure that it’s a tunnel vision and blurs everything else into the wayside. But if it helps me survive and overcome, I’m not complaining (much)

Woah, too much whining and too little information.

Basically, we are awake from about 5.15am-10.45pm with random activities interspersed. Based on limited experience, there are usually 3 or 4 key physical activities daily with inserts of 20mins of meal time or negligible rest time. So basically, most of us hate mornings and look forward to the time after dinner, when the activities planned are usually lighter. The thing is, you will stop caring about such things after a while and just go with the motion. Things pass slightly easier when you don’t think about it and just follow the motion. I guess this is what most of my friends have been trying to tell me.

Look! Time passes so fast here it’s almost impossible. I’ve been writing for so long and it’s wasting precious down time. Actually, everything feels like a waste of time now.

I need some divine intervention.

There is a shy more than a month before I’m whisked off to the land of destitute (sidenote: iPhone autocorrect tried ‘designers’. I LOL-ed) and the unease in the deep crevices of my sternum is threatening to boil over.

Sometimes my friends ask “Why the fear?”

I thought about it.

And realized that there is no fear, as much as there is dread. Lots and lots of dread; enough to drown a drown a grown man. Dread and fear are arguably similar but they are intrinsically different.

When experiencing either of the two, the body responds and reacts in indistinguishable ways. Both dread and fear induce a similar state of unease, nervousness, palpitations and a full bounding pulse. There is also an intense rejection towards the source of distress. The supposedly warm fluttering butterflies in your stomach when you are in love is as to the slithering and biting snake when you are in dread, or fear.

However, despite the uncanny similarities in the bodily responses, fear and dread are fundamentally different.

Fear is instinctual, it exists because it is a mechanism for the preservation or sustenance of life. It is the recurring rejection of a source the subject has perceived to be detrimental, and will likely result in real harm or death. Fears, or phobias, of particular sources include Nyctophobia, the fear the dark and Claustrophobia, the fear of confined spaces. For example, the fear of darkness arise because the subject fears that they could be potentially hurt by whatever (if any) that lurks in the dark. Similar, claustrophobics fear that in confined spaces, they could not escape when faced with danger. The source of fear maybe not be exactly logically for others simply because fear is emotional. Fear of a matter could be acquired by past experiences or external acquisition. It does not necessarily disappear even after the subject confronts their fear (i.e locking a claustrophobic in the small closet does not help overcome the fear).

Conversely, dread is the anxiety or apprehension of a source in the future. Dread arises when the subject is compelled to face something unpleasant that is to come. Unlike fear, dread is not spontaneous nor is it fleeting. It is the worry over a given period of time until which the subject overcomes the source of distress. It concerned itself less with the possibly of death, but rather having to do what the heart and/or mind does not want to. To illustrate, a student who did not attend classes regularly might dread the science test next Tuesday. A subject might also dread a date with someone they don’t fancy. Dread is not acquired, it simply snowballs as the date draws closer and dissipates once it is conquered (I.e. Dread of science test disappears once it is over).

Putting it together: A subject who was attacked by a feral dog could have a fear of canines and dread the day their school is going to a dog farm.

To overcome fear, one has to be convinced that the source is unlikely to cause harm (perhaps, again)

To overcome dread, the subject has to decide if they could manage what can be changed, and change it, or to accept the inevitable.

Now that was a disturbing thought.

WET T-SHIRT CONTEST!

And people ask why others prefer to stay indoors.

Maybe it was the blistering weather or maybe it was me, but while running the said errand, my thoughts kept going back to a newfound/rediscovered(?) epiphany- The stages in a romantic and platonic relationships aren’t all that different after all. (I would probably make a chart like Cracked.com does, but I’m not as dedicated, or as skilled.):

**Oh! before I continue, I must mention that I’ve come to a decision that it is due to the blistering weather, that my consciousness decided to retreat up into the safe cool shelter underneath my skull and huddle up with the Brain**

Brain Helmet!

Really, in the most general sense, a romantic relationship can be classified into Committed (madly in love, roses rainbows and marshmallows etc) and Uncommitted (rebound, friends with benefits, just getting together without knowing why etc). It’s also applicable to platonic friendship. Some friends are so unbelievably amazing (Committed), they go out of their way for you at their inconvenience. They are the first people you declare your latest sweetheart, irrational fancies, recent discoveries and deep rooted fetishes to and they are the people who hold your interest as their own. They notice your weird quirks and peeves, as you do theirs. As time goes by, the members in this relationship positively influences each other and develops this unique homogeneity.  You feel safe, empowered, secure and complete in the relationship.

Awww widdle baby safe and warm

On the flip side, there are other (Uncommitted) friendships which have no real substance even after years of sustenance, most likely birthed from individual convenience, and is easily formed and equally disposable to members. The main symptom of such a relationship is (what I) aptly named Vampirism- You usually feel fear, or dread, because every interaction feels like a judgement sessions. Members update each other on their lives and aspirations and watch each other barrage or murder them in cold blood. It’s the platonic equivalent of an abusive marriage. The possible explanations for the continued existence of such a blasphemy of a relationship is that the members are too used to it it has became a needle bed of a twisted comfort zone, or that the parties are helpless and unable to disentangle themselves, but it’s highly plausible that they are purely masochistic.

I love cat memes!

Also, the emotional progression is identical:

1. Getting to know you Part I (or discovering basic stats, or what kind of lover you are):
At this initial stage, you’re muddling along in the dark in your relationship, trying to discover the other party’s personality as a friend, or lover. You gain basic stats (family size, interests, pets, previous relationships blah blah boring stuff) and decries some of their strengths which appeals to you (humorous, deep thinker, sensitive, experienced etc.)

2. Honeymooon period begins
Most  people won’t think of it this way, but Honeymoon period is also prevalent in a friendship. Suddenly you guys start hanging out and texting increasingly often, trading jibes, banters and sharing inside jokes (probably on another poor sod). You probably see each other 1000 times a week. Obviously, in a romantic relationships it goes far more than that- first base, second base and all other baseball jokes.  Oh life is great! I have found my best friend/ideal lover! We will be this way forever! XOXO (included in romance only. XOXO sold separately but not recommended in platonic friendships. That’ll just be weird)

3. Getting to know you, Part II (discovering underlying stats)
This stage is inevitable but it doesn’t get easier. At this stage you find out more about your friend/lover, certain facts or behaviors that gets to you, like the gentle caress of a mosquito bite.  It could be that you found out that your new buddy or spit-sharer has a tendency to fart in your face. Like what the hell? You’re not even that close yet. These behaviors are moderately acceptable or gets tolerable as the relationship develops. In most discussion you end up with: That’s how he/she is.

4. End of honeymoon. Booyah…?
Strangely, you get used to each other and the urge to meet 30hours a day bubbles down to a slow simmer. Perhaps the novelty is over, or mayhaps the relationship has reached a deadlock.  The whole process is just.. inert and static, without throwing in more reactants into the equation.

5. Getting to know you, Part III  
This stage is totally optional, depending on who they are, who you are, and how much you care about the other person. At this stage, certain skeletons are dredged from deep within the metaphorical (or more morbidly, literal) closet. You find out through the grapevine (or through your astute Sherlock observational and deduction skills) that their family has a weird room in the basement with chains, saws and faded crimson tint, or that they are have a peculiar obsessive interest in hair (not that there is anything legally wrong with that), or that you’re their 3426th lover. It really depends on what kind of quirks they have and how tolerant you are, and your threshold on self control before you freak and bolt. If you wisely have freaked and bolted, continue with point 6, otherwise, skip to point  7

6. No more relationship. Call the cops and block them on Facebook and cellphone. 

7. Rediscovering you
If you’re at this point, we assume that you are a great person, and that you have decided that the deep secret is nothing compared to the awesome (br0/sis/ro)mance you have going between you. Congratulations, there is deeper mutual trust and camaraderie; the relationship has now leveled up and you are ready to learn a new ability- rediscovering. Given that you’re in on a deep secret that most people aren’t, the knowledge will shed new light and perspective on things which have happened in the past, and you now have a fundamental understanding on the motivation and reasoning behind some of their decisions which you have previous assumed was completely and stupidly random. With the new perception, you either (a) gets turned off beyond words (take one step back to point 6) or (b) have a deeper respect for the person and then it’s happily ever after (actually no it isn’t, but I’m rushing off so I’m just ending it here.)

**Author’s note: This post has been done is utter jest (and under complete mind cloudiness -from the terrible weather) I understand that relationship is not a linear progression, but rather a pervasive network of where process based on the collective consequences of choices and decisions.

Seriously how can anyone get any work (or bumming around) done like this?

-MY GOD STOP SINGING ALREADY!-

Okay god. I have already forgotten what I wanted to write about and the commotion is making me insanely angsty.

Bye.

He’s only, what, not even a quarter of a century old. What regrets could he possibly have. Fuck, what does he even know about regrets.

Or thereabouts.

If you are one of the (predictable or cynical, take your pick) few as illustrated above, you can’t be more right. I know about regrets as much as I’m well versed in the Shakespeare. Chances are, neither do you. So go read up on Othello and other ‘to be or not to be’s.

What gives? You ask. Well, have you ever woke up one morning feeling as awesome as an energizer rabbit, ready to fuck the hell out of all the lemons the world dares to throw in your direction? You feel so psyched that you don’t just make lemonades; the sheer force of your badassery mutates the shit out of the lemon like radiation did to Johnny Storm. You then casually toss the bright yellow, flame engulfed ball of citrus right back at the universe.

and coolly strides away from the scene after flipping the world off

Well, other times you wake up feeling like this:

This, just less cute.

It’s these mornings when you suddenly jolt from sleep, feeling utterly crappy when you reflect on your life and how much (little) you have accomplished. The comfort of your bed seems to be mocking you, like that cold cold shower which ensues. Wait. Are those water all over your droopy facade? Or are those your wimpy tears? Okay, I exaggerate but you must admit you like the melodramatic effect.

Though, unfortunately, the part where you reflect on how little you have accomplished is as true as it gets.

Then I realize, actually I have no real regrets.

Sure, I wished I hadn’t bought that piece of shitty LG laptop from Harvey Norman; and I wished I had agreed to go to that party last month. But these are not really regrets, aren’t they? When we say regrets, we usually refer to those crucial, life altering decisions which make a difference. Okay, maybe if I were to put it that way, one of my regrets was my failure to rescue a dog which was run down on the streets. It might not have been monumental, but it’s not as trite as a poor purchase decision or a fashion faux pas which may or may not have led to a socially awkward situation.

Source: College Humor

And then some of you will go, ‘I may not have very significant regrets. But I have dreams. Lofty dreams!’

Quick survey. What are some of your dreams?

Huge houses? Loving family? Enough dollar bills to wipe your sniffles with? Be the next top model? Have your own fashion label? Be an international celebrity? Maybe join the pro soccer team? Top of your career ladder?

I ish wanna be besh pilot!

If you’re like anybody else, you’ll probably want to have more than two of the above, and very few of us are as noble as to have dreams and aspirations like, ‘ I wanna find the cure for HIV and cancer!’,’ I wanna be the next Mother Theresa’, ‘ I wanna make world peace a reality’. Okay, the last one will probably be (pretentiously) true if you’re running for a pageant.

There is also a chance that you might not even have a concrete dream- a dream that you’re actually working towards. It’s not really that pressing isn’t it? To have a dream at this age, since we are so young? Oh, these excuses are as common as eye shits and are lies we tell ourselves to coax our spirits. And then we remember the accomplishments some people our age have already bagged.

Dr Seus: This monkey has been on the moon. What 'bout you!

I’m not saying all the other non-grandiose dreams are trivial and unimportant. Dreams and aspirations are all important because they keep us going. Simple dreams are still dreams and shouldn’t be undermined. It is the lack of aspiration that sucks. The point is, just because our dreams doesn’t involve saving thousands of lives, doesn’t mean it is not worthy to be an aspiration or a dream.

No moderately sane people would wake up one morning and think, ‘I’m going to make human flight possible by inventing a serum which gives people wings!” [Author's note: Not paid by Redbull for promotional slogan. However commission is welcome.]

Most lofty dreams stem from an equally compelling occurance, which inexplicably have an unusually powerful effect on the said aspirator. Perhaps maybe his fiancée’s plane was hijacked and she was casually tossed out of the plane mid-flight at 10000 feet above ground. The resulting trauma was so severe he felt compelled to equip every single human being with wings so that such tragedy does not ever occur again.

However, shit falling from the sky is now going to be a serious socio-cultural issue

Really, not many of us (and hopefully so) will ever have such magnitudinal incident that can awaken our internal lofty-aspiration generator.

So, instead of being dejected at having your dreams call trite. Fuck ‘em. Your dreams are yours and no one can judge it, not even if your life long dream involves swallowing 1000 sausages in under 5 minutes. It’s still respectable (also fatal) dream. I mean, hell, if you think it’s gonna give you a sense of pride and accomplishment after successful completion, do it.

I think I might have ADD, I have totally deviated from my original intent of this post but it’s still something.

]]> http://stripedhoodies.wordpress.com/2011/06/08/8-june-life-dreams-and-regrets/feed/ 0 wenbin http://stripedhoodies.wordpress.com/2011/05/09/3-lessons-learnt-while-working/ http://stripedhoodies.wordpress.com/2011/05/09/3-lessons-learnt-while-working/#comments Mon, 09 May 2011 15:38:17 +0000 wenbin http://stripedhoodies.wordpress.com/?p=1892 ]]> Depending on the nature of your job, you could be hitting the door at 7am every day for five, seven or nine days a week. If you are like most people, chances are that you clock in 40 mindless hours of solitaire every week. Sure, some people actually DO the job they are paid for but that is, if they are Facebook or Youtube beta testers.

We’ve all heard how evil the corporate world is, which is why vigilantes like Batman or the Fantastic Four exist in a incessant battle against the mad scientists we all know huge empires are harboring in their underground labyrinth.
I’d liken working, to a seemingly innocuous devil’s deal; with a devil in collared-up shirts and stripy blue ties.In exchange for intrinsically worthless wads of paper with arbitrary numbers, or if you are Oliver Twist, some gruel (Oh sir, may I have some more gruel!), we sell our youth and souls performing abhorrently awful duties we wouldn’t have otherwise thrown ourselves into had the alternative option not be selling our kidneys.

Sure, not everyone works because they have to support themselves. Some practical, or in other cases, masochistic folks (you know who you are) trudge off in the ere dawn for job experience. Ultimately you’ll learn the same few things no matter where you sold your soul:

#3 It’s The Same People Everywhere At Different Workplace

===============

Quick, imagine an office of an IT company.

Now, visual the workspace of an advertising firm.

Difference? Huge.

But really, once you get past the initial façade of dynamism (or dullness) it will all look the same, like puppies in a basket.

All the same! Just less cute.

In a general stereotype, which obviously exists and persists for a reason, your colleagues (and YOU!) can be classified into broad, douchy classes. The elements from each of these categories are ubiquitous. The bootlickers are everywhere, presumingly licking boots. Or Pedro shoes. You’ll find the same gossip ladies (another stereotype there), who are always loaded and ready to go with their metaphorical bottle of red wine from the gossip grapevine. And thank god they’re always generous enough to fill up your curious cup. Similarly, you’d be fucked if it was your grapes she had used.

I know what you did last summer

“But hey”, you indignantly call out, “I don’t see any one who falls into the ‘Know It All’ class in my office.”

Really?

#2 Get Your Foot In The Door/ Fake It Till You Make It

In almost all career or self-improvement books, there is bound to be this one tip; the one treacherous tip of lies and deception. But again, we have previously established that shit happens in the corporate world, which by itself is full of fraudery and general crappiness.

Fake it Till You Make It.

This tip basically establishes itself using its own theory of affirming oneself as the model one aims to achieve simply through emulation and mimicky until one actually becomes (or becomes similar to) the model.

That, or becomes delusional enough, take your pick

The idea works like this;
Say, you want to be a baby sitter but yet the only experience you have with a baby is with yourself. What do you do? Convince yourself, or at least, pretend to be an excellent baby sitter during your interviews. Giving them the impression that you’re real good during the interview gets your feet in the door.

Things will work out, right?

Guys?

So you’ve gotten your foot in. When the parents go out for their old people rendezvous, you take your chances with baby problems by trial and error, or by googling for solutions then and there (after the initial bouts of panic screams and wrist flapping).

DEVIL'S INCARNATE.

After a long an arduous night, you’ve become that little bit more proficient at baby-sitting. This goes on for several sessions until you’ve become a really good baby-sitter, or when you’re rocking your catatonic self in a cold corner of the shower, wallowing in guilt for a certain baby’s death.

#1 Looks Matter

This is a no brainer.

Whoever says it doesn’t is obviously lying to you. Or themselves.

Look, it’s not that anyone is being superficial on purpose or anything. Hell, we are genetically wired to gravitate towards people who , under the acute judgment of our subconscious mind, we find generally more attractive.

Repeat: Initial brain scan suggests the absence of females. Visual Optics please advise

The primeval recesses in our mind still maintain that attractive people are generally healthier and thus foster better mate selection (read: fuckable). In cavemen era, this meant that male hunters, with their warped sense of flirting and seduction, probably saved their best bacons for the prettiest women gatherers in hope that they would carry their little cavebabies. Then again, no one is exactly sure if ancient women would put out that easily over a piece of bacon.

Translate that above scenario into a workplace or in school. A male recruiter gives priority to a dazzling interviewee. The popular girls in school generally fall to the right of the median line on a graph depicting attractiveness. It is perfectly understandable for people to gravitate towards beautiful people (without passing the line of perverse stalking).

We are genetically entitled to do so!

However, it must be asserted that in most cases, stunning looks are most impactful only during the first few impressions. Subsequently, as our logical mind overrides our primitive instincts, personality weighs in almost as much (probably because reality has set in that the chance of fucking is 0). Unless you are a Victoria’s Secrets model or someone rated 9 and above, chances are that you’ll still be fired after you have been caught peeing in your boss’s coffee.

2 parts coffee, 1 part sunshine and 1 part urea

So there, even though looking all hot and sexy makes things a hell lot easier, personality is the key to keep the deal going.

Pose!

I’m getting increasingly bored. Too much free time. You’d think with so much free time I can do all sort of things. I thought so too but apparently, time and motivation has a fucked up relationship.

More time, less motivation. Less time, more motivation.

So you’d just end up like this:

Ruler of the couch; Hellspawn from a dysfunctional relationship.

Anyway, I’m really looking forward to the tioman trip this May! There’ll be snorkeling, which is totally awesome. So I was asking a friend, like, if he got giddy during snorkeling, since you’re pretty much ventilated through a snorkeling pipe clammed in your mouth. Kinda like rescue blows in a CPR, I figured.

NC16 warning for the next paragraph.

Too late. Now you’re curious.

But noooo… He had to make it sound like some act of sexual deviance- Oh, you’ll get giddy if you don’t get enough air. You just got to wrap your mouth around the pipe and blow and suck [air] rhythmically. It’s not very comfortable at first, but you’ll get used to it. Be careful though, if you get too deep [in the water], you will end up swallowing [sea water].

I’m sorry for the mental picture. Here’s a picture of happy puppies:

Yayyyy

Well, the thing is, the date of my graduation ceremony is smack right in the week we plan to go. I am still not certain if I want to go for the ceremony and all. The robe rental is too onerous and expensive, but it’s the freaking graduation ceremony.

So yeah.

Also strangely, I have been having supernatural/apocalyptic dreams for the past consecutive nights. In this particular one, Earth is totally DESTROYED and broke into a myriad of pieces which are doomed to drift in the vast emptiness of vacuum, forever. Somehow, certain clusters of people managed to survive and are trying to sustain themselves on the fragmented planet. In retrospect the whole concept reminds me of the floating continent in Final Fantasy:

Boom. Earth.

I have too much profanities up there in my mental talk, which is a clear indication of crankiness.

Nap time.

Friday has never been the same since Rebecca Black appeared on the scene. I have planned to start on this flaming post (this has to be my first post fully dedicated to flaming) since, 1 hour ago, but doing a frame-by-frame dissection of this abomination has (unnecessarily) taken up much time. Plus, I get caught up with some covers of this song, which by the way, beats the original like how Friday > Monday. I’m referring to the actual days of the week.

In the slim chance you haven’t got the slightest idea what I’m talking about, here is the one-hit wonder that has gotten internet in a major buzz. And it’s not even the weekends.

This shit is getting more than 15million views for the wrong reasons.

The absurdities of this video:

1: Fucking major turn off from the very first second. Literally.

Hell, we’ve heard all too often how a wicked beginning is halfway to success. This abomination of a video is an epitome of how the opposite of this formula can also hold true.

From the very first second, our auditory senses are bombarded with a terrible static-ish electronic mess, accompanied by a series of “Yeah’s, which sounds very much as if she’s beckoning her grandfather. Gosh, I better turn it down. Don’t want it heard near the dining room, where my gramp’s ancestral tablet is.

“Listen to Wednesday’s Song” ? ” I’m a Thursday Child” ? Does this even make sense?

Obviously, the producers are trying to plagiarize Bruno Mar’s “Just The Way You Are” abstract-singer’s-profile-using-cassette-tapes idea with their terrible motion sketch, which must have been a feature of the cheapest video editting software in the world. And the font!? Gosh, it looked a lot like the ones from WordArt in Microsoft Word 1950s.

2: Apparently, there is a limit to autotune’s prowess.

There was a period long ago when netizens flamed Ashlee Simpsons for her blatant use of auto-tune. She really sucked unplugged but guys, AT LEAST SHE SOUNDED DECENT with autotune. This chick needs an … auto-everything.

[Remember meeeeee?]

3. She, and about everyone else in this video, looked either bored, or awkward

[Yay! Friday!]

[Left chick] ” I should be raving instead of doing this shit.”
[Right chick] “Oops, I’m gonna faalll~”

Is it me, or have times changed?

Is deadpan really the new in?

I mean, hey, look at James Franco during the Oscars. Look at this video. Look at James Franco again. Now look back at this video. Difference: One’s the Oscars and another is a terribly produced Music Video. Similarity: Everything else lackluster.

They must have taken this music video on a Monday because while Rebecca tries (pathetically) to convince us how fun Friday is, the rest of the crew looked like they’d rather watch AFV at home. Speaking of fun, notice how excited she sounds when she sings ‘Fun, fun, fun, fun’ during the pre-choruses. I’m so psyched I wanna go right back to work and data-enter another 700 documents.

4. The producers are gonna get sued for

(i) letting underaged kids drive



[Yes. I chose this frame on purpose. The kid in blue tee looks hilarious]

This is obvious. They are in middle school. Middle schooler can’t drive; are not supposed to drive.

They are also not allowed to own a convertible.

(ii) MUTILATION

[Hey! It's 'THING' from the Adam's Family!!]

Omg! The car is driven only by HANDS! ’nuff said.

5. Why the fuck are you deciding where to sit?

[Shotgun's taken bitch!]

The now-infamous conundrum Rebecca faces is whether to sit at the front or back. I don’t understand why this is an issue. There are obviously no seats in the front, since shotgun has already been called.

[Synchronized move. YAYYY. Girl Power!]

Now obviously she has lots of rich friends who own convertibles. Tonight she has inexplicably decided to ditch her morning friends because she couldn’t sit at the front. Sadly, her night friends suck too and she’s still at the back.

Rebecca, shut up and stop the ‘Which seat should I take’ stint. Your choice is clear: to stand. At the back.  The passive agressiveness isn’t gonna work. You ain’t calling shotgun tonight either.

Parents and traffic authorities should really start an investigation. According to the lyrics, they are “ drivin’ on the highway, cruisin’ so fast”. Dude. When a middle school chick in braces is driving down the highway at night, it’s hardly a great idea to stand up, especially when you’re at the back, regardless of what day of the week it is.

This goes back up in point 4.

6. Because we all need lessons in the days of the week.

I’m old enough to surf the net so I think I probably know the days of the week. Even if I don’t, I have them:

[Monday! I'm schooling fine. Tuesday, You're on my mind....]

7. Strange pedophilic rapper

I’m scared.

So anyway, since I’m already torturing myself listening to this song, I might as well check out the covers. Surprisingly (or not), 80% of the covers on Youtube are a hell lot better than the original. There’s even a cover by a Singaporean. I’m pretty sure she was a child actress

Right?

And there’s this super awesome cover by a group of hilarious guys.

The next one is one of the best covers, IMO. Her voice gives this crappy song a tinge of country.

Oh. And if you hate Justin Bieber AND this song, here’s hell for you:

Gosh, all this hatin has got me hungry.

The company I’m working for deals with a myriad of geeky stuffs from softwares to computers to repairs.I’m not really sure about their core business, since most of the time I’m holed up in one corner of the office. Literally. Behind piles and piles of paperwork backlog. Oh yes kids, the everests of administrative documents are not just isolated in bad corporate sitcoms or terrible academic nightmare.

To past time, I spy from my sentry station and try to match colleagues to the typical office co-worker template:

The Boss: He is the boss. You stop spying and suddenly the Pick List numbers seem so much more interesting. Heigh Ho, I love work! I love my company!

The Veteran: He has been around here for long. Probably outstayed the junky printer just down the hallway and he shows it. Sashaying throughout the office, he is the self appointed watchdog, catching skiving people like myself. When he is not on guard duty, he’s the knowledgeable matriarch, marching  around questioning and dictating your work. No one knows what his job description is.

The Traitor: The Traitor clears all the checklist in the treason graduation handbook. The second, or third, place he frequents the most (beside the toilet) is The Veteran’s or The Boss’s office, passing on little ground floor ‘updates’ . The Traitor is usually the best players at the game Werewolves. Higher leveled Traitors might pass off as The Gossip (read below) initially to build trusts and elicit scoops.

The Gossip: They are the amiable people who approach and break in the new guy. Very valuable allies, they provides information critical for your survival, mostly from boredom. They are also all over you, trying to figure you out, their only restrain being The Veteran. Common mistakes novices make is to engage in lunch time sessions with The Gossip, where they will fall victim to uninhibited interrogation. Take heed, little ones.

The OL: The Office Lady is the quintessential, well, office lady. She spends her time pimping up herself (but is hardly worth a glance) and has a delicious stash of goodies underneath her work desk. When she is done with herself, she would sometime engage in, sigh, office work.

The Pervert: He is the one with shifty eyes and spews an obscene amount of amoralities which covers an extensive breath (thankfully not depth). Apparently, some Perverts don’t care for age nor gender, making everyone a potential target. The Interns and The New Guy should take heed.  Hopefully, he is not from the HR department.

The Interns: Most office have one, or a few. They are real cheap labor. Believe me, I know.  Being as convenient as they are, they are the easiest to spot, usually hanging out by the mentioned junky printer down the hallway or weaving through the cubicle boundaries. They are good lunch partners, since they are the folks who skew the mean age of the office to the left.

The New Guy: That’s me.

In dealing with everyday stress as discussed above, I have a few bags of snacks handy (Take that, OL!), which I proceed to devour when the pressure escalates. This leads to me wonder if this is why office folks are so unfit. They blindly consume to deal with anxiety and  believe that finger exercises alone can burn off the astronomical calories they stuff down their throats. To ensure that I don’t fall pry to such depraved mindset, I have my own set of preventive routines that I will (maybe) cover over the next few posts.

Meanwhile, I have enough of the computer screen for one day.

Time for some quality human interaction.