This one’s for my pal D. Her dear sister is expecting a precious boy and she wanted something special for her new nephew. D is extremely trusting and brave, for she left it to me to make whatever I want (or rather, could).

I hope she likes this. Because I very much do.

The perils of having a bored owner.. is…is.. unthinkable… just ask Lucas.

The background is that A-gal bought a super karaoke set which was loaded with like a million Chinese oldies that none of us could sing. So being the savvy shopper she is, the old (but cool) sweatshop gang was invited to her house for a crooning session. So I made some Pico de Gallo and guacamole (if you haven’t tried it yet, the recipe is here. And believe me you’ll want to try it. Its liberating!), loaded a tonne of chips and sour cream in the trunk and off we went to A-gal’s.

Everyone was polite and dainty at first. And we stuffed our faces with chips and dips. Then we found out that the super karaoke set had a grading system.

That was when all hell broke loose. Especially when we found out (unfortunately) that the louder you are, the better your grades were.

So my pals went from singing..

To squeezing every ounce of breathe they had in their pathetically puny lungs.

It was loud. Really really loud.

A-gal’s domestic helper packed her bags and threatened to leave the house for good. A-gal’s dog dug a deep hole in the garden and flung himself inside. It was that scary.

But at least someone was happy with his performance.

You know the whole world has gone bersek when they turn to an octopus as the football oracle.

Believe me I have nothing against octopus and I love all animals alike. Ok maybe a bit less love for rats but that’s another story.

And I am not saying the octopus prediction is bollocks or bogus, but I am against the notion of using any animals for fame, money or any other entertainment reasons. That is why I have always been strongly objective to the idea of animal shows, movies, rides or any mindless entertainment uses where they are made to work in captivity. It does not serve any purpose except the people who made monetary gains out of those acts.

Punters who worship Paul Oktopus and made money out of him, did you share your winnings or do you even care about him now that Germany is out? Will you still remember him and his greatness few months down the road? Yeah, I didn’t think so.

Of course this has not been a new practice. For centuries, men have been making use of animals for work, food and entertainment. Now that we have evolved and replaced animals with machines, turned to vegetarianism (for some of the greater ones amongst us) for food and the mass media for entertainment, maybe its time we rethink the need to make use of all our other mammal friends.

are the 2 dogs I have. They get the same amount of love, attention and equal spanking opportunities when they don’t obey the house rules. D-man and myself love them to bits and would never trade them for anything. Nothing in this world can buy them!!!

Unless its 100 million US dollars.

In cold hard cash.

And provided we are granted visiting rights.

Then we might consider cloning them.

Anyways my point is, this 2 dogs of mine, are very different in every aspect. Baby is the big dog trapped in a short, small, stumpy body, whose sunkissed golden fur grows 2 cm everyday and flows like silk in the wind. Lucas is a chicken trapped in a hound’s white and black spotted body, with an otter’s tail attached.

Lucas sits by my bed and guards me while I am asleep..

Conscientious and careful of every movement and unfamiliar sounds…

He sits obediently for his food, his walk and waits for us to finish watchy telly before starting to peddle his toys to us.

Lucas can do tricks like left and right hand shakes, sit still, down, and jumps over high walls and hola hoops when asked.

While Baby has very different skill sets.

She lies on my bed all day….

And gets away with murder.

You see, life is always fair. :)

For the locals who have been around for a while, I hope this brings back good old memories for you, and the fond reminisce of past times where people and things were all less complicated.

Or I’ll just stuff my head into the pillow forever!

Photo courtesy of A Spoonful of Sugar

I finally understood why many women want the house with the white picket fence. It’s beyond cute, and the perfect symbol of a happy, contented family living in a suburban house filled with children’s running footsteps down the halls, dotting it with laughter.

This “house”, which is a neat little cafe tucked on Saiyuan near Rawai beach on Phuket had such a picket fence. Not that you can see any of its closed up photos here because the dork who is writing this was so mesmerized she forgot to take any photos of the actual white picket fence.

If you don’t ever want to read any of my post ever again, I would totally understand.

But I did take photos of what I actually really NEED in my future white-picket-fenced house. I want a patio like this, with a huge tree next to it, installed with a hammock next to the squirrel highway (you can’t see it here but those bottle brush tails were so utterly adorable I wanted to bring some home).

And old, white-washed wooden furniture like these, where many evenings would be spent over a pot of tea watching the sunset.

Where, most importantly, such creatures would be invited to stay as long as they fancy.

I would give you 1 million dollars….

if you can tell me …..

what’s there to not like about this beautiful place.

Heck I’ll even throw in this giant windmill. Might come in handy at home on hot summer nights.

And this set of old, worn bikini, worn by the guy on the left.

Terms and conditions apply.

Hello, I’m back. Remember me? We used to see each other more often when you would read about my mundane stuff, and used it as an insomnia remedy, remember?

I didn’t AWOL for no apparent reasons. D-man and I moved into my folk’s 3 weeks ago and am a official parasite to them now. Yup, the progress we make in life is always surprising isn’t it. We then offload everything and went to Thailand for a 2 week rendezvous, where we sweated all of life’s toxins out at a Muay Thai camp and at the beach.

We went to Sinbi Muay Thai this year, and saying we loved it is quite understated. Sure, there were plenty of instructors there ready to whip our lazy arses but they were of the best breeds. There are many people who love their art, but these are the minority who live it. While it may sound very masochistic to say we looked forward to the grueling, painful and almost torturing trainings everyday, the trainers actually made it so. They were generous and patient in imparting their skills, yet able to drive us to the very extreme end of our physical and mental capabilities.

In other words we totally loved it.

Except the blue black eyes, bruised shin, broken ankles, battered thighs and intense body aches.

This is X, one of our trainers. He is hilarious.

And invincible.
This is D-man. He can be hilarious too.

And un-invincible.
These are the dudes from our our gym in Singapore.

They may be un-invincible or not un-invincible.
Are you confused? Good.

That’s a trademark fighter’s pose. But let me tell you a top secret of trade secrets of the toppest kind of secrets.
You can pose like that even if you’re not a fighter.

Just don’t tell others I told you so.

To be continued…