chao chee bye!
i am damn irritated. on the eve of my 4 day insurance course at paya lebar (which is only 17 stops away from my place by train), i was informed at 6 in the evening that i am required go for a pretty much compulsory course on the 7th and 8th of may as well.
"wait a sec," i said "isnt that the weekend?"
"err yeah. but if you dont go the next one is quite far away." she replied.
chao chee bye!
sigh. so much for plans to par-tayy on fri-dayy man. i've already persuaded my army buddies to come (this is as fucking rare as cigarette prices falling i.e never occurred before, and is a clear display of my sheer ability to
does anyone want to join us? im gonna open this to the general female populace, because im such a nice guy/fantastic events organiser. just sign on the indemnity form that i got here... you have my word, you'll still be in one piece by the end of the night. these buddies of mine, they're all officers, see? got integrity and all ma. no bullying of ladies or anything, we're *ahem* all perfect gentlemen i assure you.
(do however note that the form will only cover your well being up to 1159, whereby thereafter if your clothes do somehow mysteriously become many many pieces, i shall not be liable for any ill treatment since you have by means unknown to me rendered yourself naked and are thus at the mercy of a bunch of drunk men who have subsisted without sex for the better part of 2 years)
its always a good thing to clear the air about all these little discrepancies, dont you think? im sure we all appreciate my honesty and transparency. i know, i know - i will make a fine financial advisor indeed. thank you for your continued care, concern, love and support. you are all Friendly Understanding Caring and Kind people, my friends.
fuck! i need to sleep soon! i gotta wake up at fucking 0715 tomorrow.
oh yeah. why the fuck is my tagboard dedicated to some asshole called mark 'the cow' yap?
jeez man, i dont know either. just some old incident that sorta popped into my mind as i was thinking of how i was gonna doll up the taggyboard. wanna hear?
you dont really have a damn choice now, do you? fucks yeah! this is ma house, nigga! oh wait - the story, before i go all berserk pimping my machoness again. whoopsie.
once upon a fucking time in the fucking army, there was a bunch of nsf officers in a fucking battalion. one fucking day (there are never fine days in the army), everyone had to go for a fucking meeting for some fucking reason. well.. basically there probably was no fucking reason but the fucking bosses just felt like flaunting their fuck-ness (i know there isnt such a word; nevertheless, occasionally when we discuss bosses, comments like: "my boss is damn fuck one leh! chee bye!" sometimes pop up, so i just sorta took it to mean they possess some innate fuck-ness in each and every one of them). so there the nsf officers were in the fucking conference room with the fucking bosses, and there was this great fucking aura of fuck-ness that enveloped the fucking room... so much so that there was this one particular officer who couldnt fucking take it anymore, and promptly nodded off in blatant view of the fucking chief instructor.
you: "i bet this fella lionel's talking about must be mark."
if you really did guess it... wow. you're a fucking genius. why would you have to guess if the title of this entry has the name 'mark' in it. you should sign on; you have genuine talent, my friend!
anyway. now, the fucking chief instructor obviously couldnt fucking take it. i mean, this fella was a fucking ranger man; he practically had the word fuck tattooed across his forehead (actually, he has a mole smack dab in the centre of his forehead, which is also pretty fucked up anyway). after trying to impale the sleeping bugger with his fuck stare (all regulars have a fuck stare. it derives from seeing too much green such that you become colourblind. or watching too much porn. whatever.) and failing miserably, the fucking chief instructor decided to pop a question to our dear friend mark.
wait. why do regulars in the fucking army like to ask sleeping people questions? this practice is derived from the typical married male army regular who, after sexual activity, will always proceed to ask his sexual partner (note - i did not say wife) if it was as good for her as it was for him. sadly, however, the female of the species is usually asleep by this point of time, due in equal parts to the fuck-ness aura of the male (basically, the sex was fucked up), and also because she hopes that when she awakens, she can make-believe it was all just a fucking nightmare.
this is what happens when you marry a fucking regular. in short - don't.
back to the story. this was the question that the fucking chief instructor popped to mark the sleeping cow: "mark. what are the 5 w's?"
the 5 w's. ah, what an intelligent system of information appraisal - who, what, when, where and why.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
cpt m: "lionel, where is boss?"
me: "well cpt m (you maggot-whoring-piece-of-shit) sir, cpt jen that friggin' slut of a boss is currently engaging in lesbian activities with your wife. i think they started... lets see... at about two pm, which makes it the 2nd hour of their hot love already. they have bolted shut the door to the office, and as such i am unable to finish my work for the day. pardon my saying this sir: you really should see a doctor for your premature ejaculation problems and tiny needle thing you call a weener; even that ugly sow of a wife deserves better, my odious friend."
cpt m: "egad! you're right lionel! how brilliant!"
this, folks, is an example of how to use the five w's. true stories are always the best method of instruction, imho.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
im sorry. back to the tale again, for the third time! so by now, a fellow nsf officer proceeds to poke a now drooling mark awake from his
mark: "the five dubble-dews... uhh... oh... i know. who... umm... where... ... ... ..."
(by now mark is struggling to awaken his dormant brain. mr and mrs grey matter are frenetically copulating (i told you he was having a wet dream, didnt i?), and in a violent rush which can only be described as an orgasm, the next answer is shot straight from mark's mind like a fucking volcano, into mark's mouth...)
mark: "how!"
*everyone stares at mark in disbelief. the fucking regulars sense fleeting recognition of a kindred spirit*
mark: "uhh... how is the 'h'."
* nsf officers in the room stifle smiles. respect from fucking regulars for mark increases ten-thousand fold. chief instructor's fuck stare withers into a silly grin*
and that, people, is how this tagboard was named - in recognition of the moment my friend mark yap (affectionately known as the cow because he is big, strong and has four stomachs) became a fucking regular for all of sixty seconds.
p.s - some people might ask, "why the hell do you swear so fucking much in this story of yours?" this is an army story. the fucking army is fuck fuck shit fuck fucking fuckety fucked up. need i elaborate further? good.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
music wise: "it's as if they know what you've been going through every day of your life, and wrote an album about it." music from the plain white t's tends to be simplistic in style, yet pretty heartfelt. more pop than punk, but definitely an emo ride. listen in when you're feeling mellow and in the mood for relaxing acoustic sounds.
featured band: plain white t's
key listens: cinderella story, hey there delilah & a lonely september
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