why wy?

Was just reading this: The man who created Wonder Woman, psychologist William Moulton Marston, also invented the polygraph lie detector test. He was also remarkably advanced for a man in the 1930s, who believed that women were the equal of men. And get this, he lived in a committed polygamous relationship with two women, who all lived happily and bore him two children each. I have no idea what a committed polygamous relationship entails, but I assume that you can only sleep with your wives. Also strange was his habit of having wonder woman, who was really really strong, lose her power as soon as she was tied up by a man. And there was alot of bondage going on in those comics. hmmmm.

You can read more at http://www.moviepoopshoot.com/comics101/index.html

My neighbour warned me about him, the old man who gets on the tram with a painting, and I finally met him the other night. Apparently, the paining is very ugly and usually of nudes. Judging from the reaction of those who saw it, that might have been the case. I was sitting on the wrong side, and the tram was too crowded for me to get a look. The man started talking about the painting... it was a $6 billion salvador dali, he boasted. You could see everyone else trying hard not to laugh.

It's been an unhealthy weekend. We made chocolate chip cookies last night and had pancakes for breakfast. And they didn't explode or taste bad!

It was quite a readjustment, working with a gas oven (it has flames at the back) and getting butter to melt, forgetting that we are not back home, where melting is not a problem, getting stuff to stay cool is.

First mistake: Whisking the butter and sugar in a beeeg and shallow bowl. (But it was shiny and looked professional). Butter, sugar and expletives flew.

Second mistake: "what do you mean the thermometer is not working?'
We finally figured that it was the oven that was the problem, it didn't have a thermostat, so it just got hotter and hotter instead of maintaining an even temperature.

We made Hilary Clinton's recipe and - ironically or prophetically - we had everything else besides the cookies.

- 1 ambitious and impatient female
""Why is it taking so long for the butter to melt?"" Yes, on a night when it was raining as well.

- 1 male who appeared to do specific tasks (taking cookies out of the oven, shaking hands, kissing babies, sitting in an oval office)

- Catching the male with his hand in the cookie jar.
""Just sampling.'""
""Hmm... good... let me try another.""
And another. And another.


Unfortunately, they were out of stock of interns and cigars at the supermarket. I guess we won't be able to try Monica's tart recipe. *snigger*

Job hunting is worse than dating I figure. I never really had to look for a job before, and hopefully when I graduate, I never will.

It takes more effort to write a resume than do the job itself. Around here, you need a resume even for dead-beat jobs like waitressing or working at the supermarket. And you have to sell youself. So instead of saying "prepared to drag myself to work every morning, just for the pay'', you dangle key phrases like committed and motivated. Or helpful and cheerful. Which I am not at this point.

I gotta say I admire everyone whose been through the rigmarole.

Nothing is certain in life, except for death, taxes and bad tv on saturday nights. Maybe it's reverse psychology, to get people out on saturday nights. Maybe a lowly TV executive is thinking, nobody will be home anyways, we can show whatever crap we want! As opposed to the crap we are forced to show on weekdays.

I didn't get the newspaper this weekend, so it was a bit of a surprise, hoping there'll be something good on. I started the night with The Iron Chef (entertaining as always), moved over to the movie Species, which became increasingly incomprehensible. There was a movie after that, and I held my breath as the credits came up. Maybe it would be something better...

S... p ... e.... c... i... e... s.... II.

They were showing steve martin's the man with two brains on the other channel. I donn't know which would have been more painful.

The disappointment strangely made me remember what a teacher once told my class. She said, astound me with your brilliance, then started laughing.

Then again, they showed the godfather part II the following night, so the execs are forgiven... until next saturday.

alone again, naturally.

my housemate is in china, and while i do enjoy not having to close the toilet door and eating straight out of the pot, it's nice to have someone around to help with the dishes and bitch about american idol.

i'm also trying to start running. only because it's free. motivation, however, is priceless.

Heard a pretty amazing story the other day, during dissection class. A friend of our anatomy lecturer was a doctor in South Africa. Once, he treated a man for a small problem. On the way out, he asked the man how he got that scar on his cheek. Turns out, the patient served in the concentration camps in Germany. One day, the soldiers made all the prisoners dig a trench. When the trench was finished, a soldier came around with a pistol and shot the prisoners. Our patient was shot in the back of the head, but the bullet missed all the major arteries, nerves, bones and came out through his cheek. and if you've seen the head and neck, it's nothing short of a miracle.

He passed out, lying there with all the dead bodies of his fellow prisoners, but came to sometime in the night. The soldiers were going to cover up the trench the next day. So our man got up and simply walked out... somehow ending up in South Africa. How about that.

I've started to feel hungry during dissection class.
http://www.theyrecoming.com/extras/pumpkinfest03/index.php

you know you're studying too hard when you go... so cool! That, in chocolate, for my birthday. yum.

It is not reassuring when you are lying face down on a massage table, and the lecturer is demonstrating a technique on you when he says: "See, I must be pyschotic.''

Even if it was just a slip of the tongue.

See, I volunteered to get poked and prodded by fifth-year students doing Bowen technique. It's a strange technique, they flick tendons, and kinda like what kids do to each other in the playground, but with an aim beyond causing pain.

Apparently, I was a very good patient because there were so many things wrong with me that they could fix. And it all followed a certain pattern. So the lecturer was saying, he was hoping for a patient with a certain condition and there I was.

He meant to say ""I must be psychic'', I'm sure. Then again, he did mix up the words twice...

He's been plastered on billboards, t-shirts, maybe even tea
towels, but I think CHErry Guevava ice-cream is a new low.

What would naomi klein say?
This is how the blurb goes: The revolutionary struggle of the
cherries was squashed as they were trapped between two layers
of chocolate. And there's a message on the popsicle stick too
"we will bite on till the end''.

I hope it has nothing with being Singaporean, but I didn't find
the taste of revolution very exciting. It wasn't even real
cherries, like cherry garcia, but a bright red goop over a
regular magnum ice cream.

I think it was a marketing disaster anyway, because I picked up
the ice cream in the sale bin.

This reminds me of a conversation I had with a friend once,
about having totally unrelated quotes from nietzche in a
fashion spread. Maybe it's a forlorn editor, trying to give
fashionistas an education beyond prada and chanel.

It's easter here, and everywhere I turn I see eggs. Although the one with chocolate rabbits and carrots caught my eye.

they sure know how to throw porn parties here. on my way to the party i had to walk past a strip joint and an adult store. Am trying to get photos, but take my word for it: the hostess was a milkmaid with a really short skirt, her housemate was rollergirl of boogie nights. We had a classmate who came as a nurse, two doctors (dr sex and dr long schlong), and a delightful easter bunny. she deserves a special award for coming on the tram like that. She even had a cutsey fluffy tail. And of course, there were plenty of schoolgirls, tight shirts and gold chains (the guys).

I was thinking of doing the japanese school girl thing but realised i didn't have the requisite sexy undergarments. Besides it was too cold to wear a skirt. thankfully, my zebra harness saved my ass without being suspended 20m in the air. Some of the guys at the party were very intrigued by my trusty figure of eight, but less impressed when they found out what it really was, cos they were hoping they were handcuffs.

them: so what are you dressed as?
me: it's adventure porn. It's new and very kinky.

And I came up with a pretty decent porn name all of my own... which i'm not revealing unless you guys email me.

the revolution is proceeding at full speed. Today one of my shirts went missing and reappeared two washes later when nick took out his laundry. I can't figure it out.
at least it's not pink.

The good news is that i may be able to apply for work soon. welcome to the world of brainless, low-end jobs. The papers today had a report about students resorting to prostitution and stripping to pay uni fees, which happens everywhere in the world i guess. Well i'm getting quite blase about taking off my shirt in class, it would take a few drinks (and a lot less in my pocket) to consider that. I hope.