Monthly Archive for March, 2006

I sued someone in Small Claims Court and got countersued.

Dude.

It’s a long story (Do you really want to hear it?) but our long fight with the noisy club in our neighborhood culminated in a group of us bringing the owner to Small Claims. Jay and I got dressed for our first court appearance – Coat and Tie, people – and when we stopped by his office on the way to court, Dave said, “Oh-oh. This looks like an episode of Law & Order.”

He was right there. We looked the part, but the American Legal System was nothing like my favorite show.

A one-hour TV show (with ads) sure cuts out all the waiting and sitting around that takes place in court.

Stay tuned for the proceedings and the verdict. You don’t want to miss this.

Jay.

It appears I forgot. (Horrors!) So did you.

Since we are apart, I have appropriately lavished on myself by purchasing random, and very possibly unnecessary, items that may, or may not, resemble a fat-faced cat.

Please do the same for yourself.

Although in your case, I suspect that a random, unnecessary, and cat-like purchase means a lamborghini.

Read this and weep. 19 to 107.

World Number 2 netball team Australia plays Singapore (rank unknown) in the Commonwealth Games and this is the result. Ouch.

I love netball, and despite Jay’s disbelief, used to play it competitively. A long time ago. I remember when my teammates and I first saw our national players in action. They were so good in my 16-year-old eyes then.

Our coach later played a video (yes, I’m dating myself by saying VCR) of the world’s top team then (the Aussies, now overtaken by the Kiwis), and we were amazed at how much better they were.

The standard was progressively better the further we got from Singapore.

Are we only as good as the people we compare ourselves to? What does it mean to be best in Singapore? Does that title even have any cachet these days?

If smaller-sized nations like ours are cursed to sporting failure, I wonder how Singapore Airlines keeps its top dog position. Is it the Singapore Girl’s sarong kebaya? Her personality? Her zest for service?

Here’s an idea: We send the Singapore Girl to every international event – Olympics, film festivals, design competitions…EVERYTHING.

Let her smile her way to victory.

You know your Mandarin’s in trouble when the Auntie who sells fried mifen in your neighborhood hawker center asks you where you are from. Right after you try to order in Chinese.

Here! I’m from here!

What do you mean where I’m from?

Was my language so mangled? I was enunciating, darn it, enunciating!

On another note, may I please enter as Exhibit #98, Pet Peeve Supremo: White guys who show up at a table full of Chinese-looking Singaporeans and proceed to speak in Mandarin. Fine, I get it. You speak Chinese. Whoopee Doo. Now, if you had only not assumed, we would have gladly told you that aside from the one person who works in Beijing and speaks flawless Mandarin, there was a Peranakan Chinese (who speaks Malay), another an inept D7-grade RGS girl [C'est moi], and a table full of Chinese who speak English. As a first language. Like you, White Man.

You should have guessed as much when I tried (and failed) to understand your introduction. I still don’t know your name.

When your television viewing choices are controlled by a two-year-old and his older brother, there is a high chance you will end up watching Madagascar twice. In a day.

I understand I am lucky. Apparently the grandparents and parents have endured Finding Nemo daily since it came out on DVD. Don’t even bother to multiply that. Trust me, it’s a lot.

However, when you’re less than three feet tall and as adorable as this pair of rugrats, you naturally get your way.

Which brings me to the unfortunate side-effect of Madagascar watching.

THAT song.

That song that the lemmings dance to. That song that goes, “I like to move it, move it…” on an endless loop.

I was humming the tune and feeling the urge to move something by dinnertime, preferably the DVD player. Out the window.

I didn’t get to move it, move it.