The 20th Bash

Ok, so the organisation I worked for is celebrating it's 20th anniversary this year. We've come a long way. Geez, even yours truly have come a long way. When I joined the institution as a student 20 years ago, in awe at the very thought of going to school smack dab in the middle of town, little would I know that I'd end up where I am now. Maybe it's the fact that I just refused to let go. Holding on to that piece of memory that is '925'. But that's another dimension. A path I refused to dwell on as we both have moved on in life and I doubt if he still remembers my name anyway.

And so I joined the institution after I graduated, working quietly at the corner until I became the jaded civil ass that I am now. I used to go to the annual D&Ds. My first D&D back in Nov 94 was fun. The theme was tropical something. I wore the dress my mum made me for work. It's a Jackie O cut midi with huge prints of fruits on them. Nope I don't wear power suits to work. My classmate (I was taking part-time night classes at that time) lend me a huge straw hat and I stuck a huge fake sunflower on it. While some of my colleagues chose the very safe 'black dress' to attend the function, I ended up looking like a fruitcake. Needless to say, my gamble paid off because I got the second prize for best dressed. Hurrah.  Anyway, I was one out of the 5 people who followed the theme. Me being obedient because I don't really have money to buy a kickass black dress back then.

The second D&D was interesting. The theme screams "International". This time, I had gained somewhat of a reputation since last year's fruitcake sure-win dress, and everyone expected me to dutifully follow the theme. I opted for a safe black dress instead because I just wanted to eat my sweet & sour prawn, maybe get a lucky draw and go home.

By the third D&D, I get the drift. The same crowd of men at the front table will get drunk before 9pm and made complete asses of themselves by the third course, the MCs get less funnier as budget decreases, the Malays usually get the lousy tables (either behind a pillar or at the far corners - we can't even see the stage) and the sight of old men dancing to Ace of Base "All That She Wants" just makes you want to give up that last spoon of fried rice they usually serve as the last course. And I never get lucky in lucky draws. Really. The big prices go out to rich officers who can afford a gazillion flat screen TVs. Why on earth do they get to WIN another one! Why??

As for our table arrangements, I was told that they are such so that it's easier for the waiters to serve us halal food because there was only a handful of us. I've never really minded these arrangements but it totally pisses me off when, one time, I disappeared for a while to visit the toilet (it was cold!) and when I came back, my prawns were whisked away by the ever efficient waiter. WTF! I came here for the prawns man...I was gone for like what? 5 minutes?

And that was it. I didn't attend any D&D after that.

Then I met the hubby and it's always been his company's D&D from then on. It's free and I don't have to make small talk. I just make my appearance as 'the wife', enjoy my fake shark fin soup, pretend to understand his drunk -assed colleagues jokes and go home.

Now, let's come back to this year. 2012. The reason for this whole blog page. The organisation that I worked for have seen so many changes including having a bi-annual D&D instead of having it done annually. Not that I've attended any ever since that prawn incident back in 1996.

This year, they're calling it "Oscar's Night" and will be staged at the very grand Resorts World at Sentosa. The minute we get the memo (ok, email), I was going hmm, black tie, sexy evening gowns, glamorous hair-dos, red carpets, the works - very, very interesting. For a fee, we can have our make up and hair done. Wow! All you need is a Vera Wang dress or maybe that Bvlgari vintage necklace worn by Keira Knightly at the real Oscars.

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Then somewhere along the way, someone got very confused. Beside the tabs for "hair styling" and "makeover" there is "costume rental'. Ok. Maybe it's an honest typo. Surely they mean "evening gown rental" right? We don't refer to gowns as costumes, do we? Apparently, I didn't read the memo correctly. We are to come dressed to the nines and as a movie character.

What(?!). If they're thinking Marilyn Monroe (in that famous white dress - yes the one with the air vent billow thing), then, at least it's ok. It is still a dress. But what if I want to come as Wonder Woman? Am I supposed to arrive in that star spangled bustier and sit in the cold hall eating my sweet and sour prawns and hoping I'd win best dressed? What if someone did come as the Incredible Hulk? He'll catch a freakin' cold for gods sakes. And I wouldn't want to be anywhere near him because unknown green substance may be difficult to scrub off if you're wearing that Marilyn Monroe dress. And don't get me started on his yellow teeth - uber gross.

I mean, have the organisers seen the oscars? No one wears costumes to the oscars, unless you're the entertainment. I have a feeling that they'll be handing out those mini statues of oscar (from the souvenir shop at New York's area inside the Universal Studios) for "best drunk-before-the-third-course" or "best butt kisser".

Whatever lah. I'm not attending. It's heavily subsidised at $25 a piece. But hubby need to pay $100. Then where am I supposed to put the kids? Under the table? $100 on hubby's ticket can give him more than enough to eat at Royal Scott's Carousel buffet.

And not that I can get a guaranteed promotion if I attended this event anyway.

*sour puss face...*

Out of Us

I probably shouldn't be so pissed off by it. Heck, it's not even in my place to comment. I have no right but I just can't help bitching about it.

It's been years and we have our own lives now. We have drifted so far apart, the only memories left are the bunch of photographs at the bottom of the shoebox of us cam-whoring (oh yes, back in those days when you actually have to purchase a reel of film to take photographs) at every outing we had together. A typical outing being taking bus number 7 from Clementi Interchange to Orchard Road, walk from one end to another, stop at McDonald's (Fillet, small coke, small fries, apple pie/chocolate sundaes (depends on how much allowance we managed to save that week by starving during recess), take the bus back home and be in the house by 7pm like obedient, little girls. But that's another trip down memory lane.

We don't have perfect stories to tell but let's just say that among the 3 of us, perhaps Vin got the best deal. But then again, I have not seen her for the past 10 years, so I wouldn't know how her life turned out to be. Last I heard she's got 4 kids but at least her husband's working a full time job.

Ida was the oldest among us (by mere months). She got married first. I was sceptical of the union but she was happy so we let her have her bubble and practically dropped out of her life. It didn't work out. After 10 childless years, she suffered a miscarriage, went through an emotionally painful process of getting her womb removed, divorced and almost driven to bankruptcy by that no good M*&^ F$#*& asshole husband of hers. Still, she's the smartest among us and probably earned a higher annual income than me and Vin put together. Well, Vin's annual income would be practically zero because she was and still is (?) a full-time housewife and my income tax returns would probably look pathetic next to Ida's. Anyway, that's not why I'm scratching an itch here.

I caught Ida on Facebook. The ultimate people finder. Well, she caught me because I was using my Real name. I mean how the hell am I supposed to figure out that TweLooP lOaplooa125 used to sit beside me during History back in 1988? But, I digress.

We were practically cyber-jumping up and down after we added each other. And then I realise why it's really such a bad idea. Number 1, the husband who wanted me to be on facebook will never, ever be comfortable around my friends. So that means no gatherings over coffee, no tete-a-tete at a local joint or a rendezvous with 'the girls' or anybody from my past before the turn of the century. Yes, that's right. I am an alien with no past, no history, no friends and no family. My husband made sure of that. It has always been his friends, his family, his past and his stories. My coming in would be too much. My greatest fear is to meet anyone (classmates, tuition mates, school mates, postman's mates, the local bakery owner's sister) on the streets when I'm out with him. After a few stilted exchange of how-do-you-dos and him flashing his fake smile he would turn to me and say "eww, so ugly/fat/hideous" or whatever negative word of the moment that comes to mind as if he's Mr Perfect Pants himself.

Again, I'm derailing.

Ok, before I crash, the reason I'm Miss Itchy Bitchy today is because of Ida's life. I don't envy her one bit. She has the rottennest (really - there is such a word, go look it up) luck. It's not her fault seriously because things just didn't happen for her. Our preteen years saw us growing into full blown women together but while Vin got the looks, Ida got the brains and I was the glue that held us together, I thought I would be the one having issues today. I mean, I was the last one to have sex for crying out loud!

Geez, I should stop straying...urgghh..

So Ida and I resumed our long lost friendship by texting each other during our busy lives. It was not long before she told me about her new husband. I was about to congratulate her on her newfound freedom from Asshole Hubby #1 when she dropped the bomb. I was like "what?!" After what Number 1 did, you'd think she would learn her lesson by now.

Her excuse this time was her mom didn't want her to live life alone and refused to have her in her house. Huh?! (Her first marriage excuse being : "I can't say no because the entourage came all the way from Toa Payoh" )

So she got married. Again.

Maybe, I mean, I can understand about the whole "we need sexual release too" theory but that is a lousy reason to get married again. it's like coming out from the lion's den and into the crocodile's mouth. Husband #2 was, again, not what she bargained for. She's a pathetic bargainer. Seriously. A smart girl who always gets the lousy guys because she lets them rule her life. The same can be said of me but I'd be telling my life story instead.

Ida and I are a full-blooded testament of an emotionally abused wife. We have a lot in common - really. But I thought she would've found her piece of heaven by dissecting herself from Asshole Husband #1. I mean, I would be practically swimming in my own cloud of heavenly freedom from such an ass myself.

But no, she has to fall for another asshole. Hard.

Ok, Husband #2 topped the looks department. Compared to #1 who is downright ugly - like seriously and is a (did I say it just now?) pompous ass, Husband #2 looked fairly decent - if you're into those boyish-aged-very-well type. He has 2 kids from a previous marriage and is still paying maintenance to an equally hard-assed ex who demanded more everytime they crossed path (which is quite often).

So here we have my poor friend, already suffering from post-divorced trauma found herself saddled with:-

(1) Asshole Husband #1's credit card debts (under her name of course)
(2) Getting laid off from work and then having to earn half her usual salary from her current job
(3) Settling Asshole Husband #2 debts
(4) Settling Asshole Husband #2 unpaid taxi rentals (He used to drive cabs)
(5) Paying Banks for current debts
(6) Paying friends for current debts
(7) Paying for the car (it's not even an off-peak car)
(8) Paying Child Maintenance of Asshole Husband # 2's kids. WTF? !!? it's not even her own kids for goodness sake!

But she appears happy. So I am happy for her but I still think he (who shall not be named) is the happier one because he's literally shooting fishes in a bucket. This was before she started whining and complaining about that particular man in her life. I wanted to snap at her but all I felt was pity. I mean, we all make mistakes. Me included. But at least I have my kids to distract myself with if all that life can give me right now is kickass sex which is not very often but I should at least be thankful.

Anyway what made me snap is when I saw pictures of him (we're still talking about Asshole Husband #2 here) in front of Big Ben, London Bridge, the Coloseum, every other stadium in Europe and anywhere else that you only get to see on postcards, the internet and 100 places you want to see before you die.

Generally, I don't go mad at holiday photos plastered all over my FB newspage. I'm not a jealous person per se. I'm terified of flying. But I know that they're not on holiday with Ida's current paycheck. They don't even own a house here (they currently leave in a rented apartment in JB because with Ida's income and his NO income, the bank records don't look too good).

Ida's job required her to go on business trips and travel to Europe for seminars and meetings. She is good at it. Her post divorce pictures consists of happy smiles in front of that stadium housing Arsenal Football Club.

Somehow, that smile didn't quite reach her eyes during the last three (three??!!) trips there. She did mentioned after that first post marriage business trip that they only had bread and sometimes skip meals because they're literally broke. I understand. Ida normally have to fork out her own money first before she comes back home and wait for the company to reimburse her expenses.

So while he's there posing with Big Ben and the National Guards and generally literally shouting to everyone back home (especially the hard-assed ex) that "I WAS HERE!!!", my poor friend has to slave at the hotel room doing her report and generally working her ass off and coming home to a reimbursement of HALF her expenses there. What? You think the company is going to foot her husband's bills and fare trip as well? What were you thinking?!!

The second trip is even better. She footed her husband's fare PLUS her two step sons' as well. I was literally crying for her. Oh he can go all holier-than-thou and spout goodness quotes on his status (eg, Just want to show the kids that the caucasions are not necessarily superior and that we should embrace the culture of others bla bla bla)- honestly how vomit inducing can one get?

With Ida's current financial situation, you'd think that he would have the brains to let her go on the trip alone. Afterall, she was the one who put food in his stomach, a roof over his head, and paid for the car through her nose. But no, he has to tag along. He has to be there and show off that 'he can go to all these places" in his facebook wall. He was not encouraging when Ida wanted to quit her job because he secretly love the trips abroad.

I may be shooting through my foot here but I felt utterly helpless at the whole situation. My friend, like me, let the men in our lives rule us. We became their puppet, bowing to their every whim. Working our assess off because all the nice guys are taken and we're too ugly to be choosy.

Everytime he posted pictures of them in their wall (they share the same FB account - thus my decision not to post anything at their wall) and to the special places for their meals (extra special if the 2 sons came along), my heart would break at what Ida will be getting on her bill because of course, she will be the one to PAY! But i can understand where she's coming from. Unable to bear a child, she showers her attention to 2 late teenagers. I just wish those boys know how to repay back Ida's kindness. She deserves much more that the shit thrown at her every other day.

The Spirit Lives On

I was fooling around with my iphone one afternoon when I decided to google and type flash mob for no apparent reason. It led me to several flash mobs across the world where people were dancing to Michael Jackson's Beat It or Thriller in celebration of what would be his 51st birthday. It was heart warming at best watching everyone in the streets dancing using the same routines that made the King of Pop what he is today. You see them, young and old doing that "deck-of-card" routine with their right hands which was so cool back then and still look good today.

Then You Tube being as it is, led me from one type of flash mob to another. The freeze frame (not flash mob) at a supermarket in Manchester had me laughing hard at the comments. It ranges from "freaky" to "50 people just completed the world record for not blinking". Then you have the MC Hammer "U can't touch this" mob at a store in LA, Sunset Boulevard, where suddenly, these people appeared in Hammer's trademark gold 'you-can-stuff-ten-live-chickens-in-'em pants. After like a few minutes, they disappeared as suddenly as they came. It was epic! Well, the comments from TheYULiberator sums it all best "Holy shit that was awesome where's they a...hey where'd all our inventory go?" LOL.

The afternoon wore off with me glued to my iphone. Then I came across teacher's flash mobs across the US. It was fun watching all these teachers performing in front of their unsuspecting students during assemblies, pep rallies, half time matches, and such. While going through clip after clip of videos, I discovered something vaguely familiar in their routines and song selections. I don't know. Maybe in one of their annual meetings or so, all the high school principals were ordered by the ministry to organise flash mobs at their respective schools. Something about getting together and embracing the school spirit etc.

What got me though is, like I said, the routines and song selection. The workout was at best, repetitive because a school in the west coast will have the same move as a school on the other end of the country.

Anyway, nevermind about the choreography, I'd like to applaud the song selections though. Most of them would have these amongst others in their playlist:

Katy Perry - Firework
LMFAO - Party Rock
Taio Cruz - Dynamite
Beyonce - Single Ladies

But my personal favourite is St Charles North teachers' flash mob. It's not exactly perfect sync-wise, and the students didn't really jump up and start dancing on the bleachers but I guess from the appreciative cheers that followed when group after group of teachers ran to join the few on the court speaks for itself . They started off with Dynamite, Poker Face and a slew of today's hits. Of course the whole gym hit the roof when after a half millisecond lull, We no Speak Americano's catchy tune came on and they broke into yet a new dance routine.

Again, it was heart warming watching them dancing to the tune of today's generation. The younger ones would still be clubbing and raving so it's easier for them. It's the older ones who have longed since abandoned their tea-dance days, that took the effort and time away from families and tight schedules to help put these together that deserved to be applauded. They must have sacrificed a lot, just to bring a smile to their students' faces. Most detractors would say they're just humiliating themselves and that they stooped so low to be accepted by today's youth. But then again, we beg to differ. I mean if I were part of that group, I would be proud of myself. So what if I've gained a butt the size of Alaska after all those years "moulding the future of the nation". If it's time to wiggle it, I would.

I'm just wondering if on the teaching application form in future, it would include 'able to dance' as one of the criteria apart from my impressive degree-with-merit in Human and Social Biology. But from the videos uploaded, I can see that all of them were having fun doing it and whether they chose to believe it or not, perhaps their objectives to come together and embrace the school spirit would've already gotten them a big red A+ to boot.