Personality Diagnosis

Inspired by [ ::> Badaunt's post <:: ], I have decided to take the same test.

I am diagnosed as Histronic!

70% Histrionic isn't exactly the lowest of values, especially when the rest of the web is only 43% histrionic. Do you see the diagnostic in my blog writings?

On the topic of personality tests, I took one by similarminds.com matching my personality to a famous leader in the world. Coincidentally, I got matched to Bill Clinton, to who I look up to as a role model. It just so happens that he and I share the same birthday, August 19th!

I am a social chameleon! I change my personality in accordance to the people I am around. Probably a good complement to my histrionic personality?

If the diagnosis is correct, then that might explain my dominatrix stance towards some of my friends, and why others see a pussy cat in front of them.

I finished my tour of duty on Jurong Island recently, and I have seen some really interesting things.

Fact #01: Long trailers travel faster than the average car

Fact #02: Long trailers do not need to obey traffic rules (I have seen some of them travelling against the traffic flow, and most of them don't even bother to stop at red lights)

Fact #03: Jurong Island stinks (the plethora of alkanes, alkenes, esters, and other petrochemical derivative mixes together to form a deadly drowsy concoction that strangulates appetite, murder the lungs)

Fact #05: People like to stare at the handsome young man sitting at the back of a truck mounted with a 7.62mm calibre weapon (especially when he is wearing that cool shades under the hot sun)

Fact #06: The same young man gets burnt by the sun by day, and the clouds make sure he gets his appropriate amount of water per day (though the method of delievery is slightly inaccurate)

Fact #07: The truck drivers drive like those trailer drivers (see facts #01 and 02)

Interestingly, the frequent police patrols always look the other way at all the balatant abuse of the road. I have long since given up hope, and have since concentrated on hoping that the Light patrol vehicle that I am on doesn't collide head on with these trailers.

I would hate to bother the road cleaners with this little mess.

[> Comments <]

The passage of Time...

Time does fly: As I go through all my old entries (I like to read them as my own diaries!), I have realised how much I have gone through — already, I am staring at my first trip to Taiwan.

Meanwhile, so many people have come in and out of my life: acquaintances and friends, contacts lost when the magic touch of a face to face meeting is no longer there: sacrificial lambs to our unceasing progress in life. At this point in time, the radio station happens to play [>>> Vitamin C's Graduation (Friends Forever) <<<], bringing my already poignant mental state to its peak. I would rather not think of it as a weakness on my part, but a regret at not contacting the many people who I have chatted, joked, played with.

Perhaps making things worse, I stumbled upon my very own [>>> Death Clock <<<], of which I doubt the veracity (working on the line and all that). Oh dear, perhaps it is time for me to start doing some catching up with my friends!

A rather shocked Platoon Sergeant told me about our flight details a few days ago, and it appears that I, a mere Corporal, was picked to be the packet I/C for one of our flight details — out of so many other sergeants! Initial details were sketchy, but I am suspecting some mischevious manipulation on the part of my friend (who is the liason clerk for my Taiwan trip)...

The flight would be on the morning of 2 April, and in keeping with some weird SAF tradition of flying last/first in a particular day, we are expected to be at the airport at 5 am. That means no train services, bus services, and an entire plane load of people are arriving by taxi! What a windfall for those cabbies eyeing the exhorbitant mid-night surcharge. Sometimes, I wonder whether all these is a nefarious scheme by the govenment to increase spending...

[> Comments <]

Me, give tuition?

While I was pondering over the available business opportunities, I chanced upon tutoring as a cash supplement. I have not asked around yet, but it seems that many of my friends are doing it: the market for complementary studies looks lucrative, and the plethora of tuition centres are testimonials to that fact.

Even though things look good, I am quite hesitant to take it up — I am afraid that I might be a deviant teacher imparting the wrong information to some promising young kid, and harm his future (would it be that bad?)

Compound this with the fact that my command of English has probably slid down the sewage pipe (did that expression sit well with you?), I probably am the last resort for parents looking to boost their child's English scores. Scores. They seem to mean everything in this country.

Oh well, two more days on Jurong Island to think it through, and perhaps make some queries! (I am now there to protect some key installation on that island; two days on duty, two others spent loofing at home/typing in my blog/thinking about getting rich).

[> Comments <]

Addicted to electronics

I went to the [>>> ITShow 2005 <<<] with a bunch of close platoon mates, after a refreshing LAN game of DoTA (and no, to all of you Googlers out there searching for [> prostitutes in Singapore <], I did not come close to any of these dangerous women.)

Amidst the disorienting arrays of cool gadgets flying off the shelves (literally) at promotional prices, I found my ATM card's magnetic stripe hot from all that swiping. Hmm... That optical mouse looks like a great addition to my desktop! Swipe. What was that? A [>>> call back system <<<] that charges 3 cents per minute from my mobile? Swipe. I came close to shelling out even more for a camera before Bing De (one of the platoon mates) trounced me in the spending category by shelling out almost $200 for a Creative TX MP3 player. In fact, his hands were still trembling as he held his prize with high emotion...

Those merchants must have used some sort of subliminal influence on us! We were totally awed, and feverish as we jostled our way around the crowd on the exhibition floor. The addictive high was still coursing through my veins when I reluctantly left after the other guys (wonder why they didn't seem to be affected) dragged me out, kicking and screaming like a drug junkie deprived of his cocaine fix.

Bing De was not about to be denied his drug: We tried to re-enter the exhibition hall past the closing time of 9 pm, wanting to savour a few more moments of oggling at the silicon chips, lusting after the smell of freshly packed electronics, but were denied by a security guard who insisted that we go back tomorrow, and would we please stop drooling like a dog all over his carpet flooring.

I had to be dragged out — again.

[> Comments <]

Friday Shock

Before I book in to camp now, I would like to mention something that I only found out on Friday:

I am now a Corporal.

See you in a few days!

[> Comments <]

HaloScan Commenting Removed

I have decided to remove HaloScan's commenting system from this blog. It turns out that they don't tell you about the 4 month limit for comments: Once your comment is 4 months old, they hold it hostage, and will show it to your visitors only after you part with $12.

I have no credit card, so HaloScan's comment system has got to go. Meanwhile, I am still trying to find a suitable system (other than Blogger's pathetic offering of a comment system). If you have any suggestion, please do not hesitate to leave a comment — in Blogger's system.

[> Comments <]

Virgin trip to the prostitute

My friends were all keyed up for this trip: we had it planned for many weeks, and secrecy was really of dead crucial importance (now we don't want the parents to know prematurely, do we?). The decoy was simple: I would tell my mother that I was going to the local LAN shop to play [>>> DoTA <<<] with my friends, and won't be back until after mid-night.

Since many of these LAN shops do close in the dead of the night, I had no trouble sliding it past my mother.

Slinging a change of clothes in a bag, along with a towel and some toiletries (now was I going to the red-light district, or going on an overnight stay with a friend?), I met the guys at 8 pm. I could see the prostitutes hanging around the streets, eyes peeled wide open for potential clients. Meekly, I approached one of them:

Me: Excuse me, erm... do you provide that kind of service? (pointing to the condom I had purchased at 7-eleven earlier)
Girl: (as she was finishing her compulsive hair-tying) Yes, what kind do you want?
Me: What do you mean?
Girl: You want express or full?
Friend: He wants the express (pulls me aside)

"Trust me, you will want the express service," he whispered as the girl suddenly turned on her charm, and flashed her dark eyebrows at me.

"What? I don't even—" I started to protest when he simply went up to the girl (she must have looked at most around my age) and the two started to haggle. Before long, they were done (I was amazed by the amount of cash he handed over to her), and the girl came to me, and pulled me into one of the nearby bargain hotels: "You sign in, I wait for you."

Dumbly, I passed the completed form to the receptionist, who tried her best not to look at my already flushed face. After hitting a few keys, she took a key fob from a hidden drawer, and gave it to me, and kindly reminded me of the presence of condom dispensers in the staircase away from the main entrance.

In case you were wondering, the above account didn't happen at all. I didn't lie to my parents about any hidden trip to a prostitute. Rather, this post was inspired by BadAunt, after she ranted wrote about bloggers whom [>>> felt that they had nothing interesting <<<] to write about. Yes, I am a guilty party.

Though the raging male hormones in me plead otherwise, I remain comitted towards retaining my virginity — all for the joy of sharing it with my future love of my life, whoever she may be.

Disclaimer: Kids, do not try this at home! Lying to your parents can be an extremely habitual addiction that can lead to you being grounded, or having privileges revoked, or caned severely. Not to mention visiting a prostitute. (This is controversial, since certain parents are more open to this than, should I add, most others.)

[> Comments <]

Numero Uno!

Plowing through my visitors' record, I realised that somebody had used Google with the search terms "[>>> BMTC Ninja <<<]", which meant that they are looking for anything related to my BMTC company, which is Ninja. Guess what, I am numero uno for that search term! As you can see from the photo below:

As you can see, I rank number ONE! My BMT section mate's page is number 4, by coincidence...

Upon scrolling further down the page, I come across a [>>> curious attempt at mockery <<<] of the National Service system. Affectionately found inside are many choice phrases and sentences usually made by the people inside the Singapore Armed Forces, and with their English equivalent in bold.

Don't you find it weird that I don't really post about the operational stuff that my battalion goes through? The fact is that we do have them, but even when we are activated for them, I am not allowed to even breathe a word to another person. I am not sure about what happens after the whole thing is over, but the stance is that during operations, we can't talk.

The reason I am here blogging right now is that I am not involved in something that some people have been activated for. It is something quite big if people found out what it is, especially with the backdrop of terrorist activities around the globe. In fact, orders came so late that we had to postpone our book out timing to get things sorted out.

This morning my platoon went to Pasir Laba Camp to get briefed on our April trip to Taiwan to role-play as enemy scouts for one of the other units' ATEC (a sort of a final exam for all national service battalions before they finish active service and return to the civilian world): we were furnished with disembarkation cards to fill (which were printed in traditional chinese characters, something the whole auditorium had trouble reading, since we were more used to the simplified characters). I didn't know how the Indians and Malays in the room managed, but they had to fill the same thing in chinese characters (I wonder what they put under the "Name in Chinese characters" field — even I had trouble filling mine in traditional script; I just wrote it in the simplified form that I have always wrote in). As we know, certain things are sensitive to the Taiwanese, and probably the current political situation over there does not make them favour the simplified script at all (the simplified script is adopted by mainland China, and Singapore, while the Taiwanese retained the traditional form)...