There Is No Other Country I'd Rather Bitch About
For those of you who have been checking my blog everyday, I suppose I should apologise for not having dispensed any brilliance for like, a week or so. However, I'm not going to apologise, because you ingrates still
haven't donated to my Beer Fund! Shit, how am I supposed to get sloshed on a regular basis without any funds? You guys think it's easy being me? You think Don AQ's life is a bed of fucking roses? It takes a lot of effort, money and all of my time just to be me, ok? So I would appreciate any help any of you can give me. Seriously, people. Two words. Beer Fund. I need dough to keep you entertained with my crazy life.
I'm not just talking about the odd buck o' five here, either. We're talking really big sums of stash. How big? Well, think Godzilla big. I need mountains of wads of gadzillion sprillion dollar notes here. Only when I am insanely filthy rich can I properly sneer at all you other poor buggers.
Donate to my Beer Fund.
Ok, the real reason why I haven't really been blogging is that I have been busy with school work. Despite being astoundingly intelligent, not to mention stunningly handsome and amazingly athletic, the sad fact is that there are only so many hours in a day and I have only one pair of hands. I have many commitments, such as gaming, keeping my adoring girlfriends entertained, drinking beer, watching porn and so on, and when you put school work on top of it, well, something has to be sacrificed. Since you guys haven't been donating to my Beer Fund . . .
I think ugly chicks should just give it up. You know, it takes a helluva lot more than a short skirt to make you sexy. I've recently been noticing a disturbing rise in the number of fat chicks wearing drooping pants or jeans. Yes, I know that having your jeans barely above your hips makes you feel daring and glam or some shite like that, but come on, the rest of us don't really appreciate seeing your love handles wobbling around, and it is extremely unlikely that the sight of your butt crack is going to send us swooning. We're more likely to go into paroxysms of disgust, ok?
So please, give it up and cover up. You want to be beautiful? Either go for drastic reconstructive cosmetic surgery or try again the next life. Wearing less is likely to only aggravate the situation, all right? Let's put it this way. If you look good, you'll look good wearing anything. If you're ugly, you'll still be unnattractive even if you go around naked pouncing on every man you meet.
I am a patriot. Seriously, I love Singapore. I have considered emigration before, but I have since decided that, at least for now, there is no other country I would rather stay in. Many Singaporeans think that going to the fucking Padang once a year and waving their flags around while jumping and screaming like a bunch of loons is being patriotic, but being a true Singaporean is so much more than that.
Being Singaporean is about having supper at a 24-hour prata shop after going clubbing with your buds and complaining about the food, not to mention the lack of really good clubbing spots in Singapore as if any Singaporean really knows how a good clubbing spot should be like. Face it, guys, we're a rather staid sort of people.
Being Singaporean is bitching like a, well, bitch, about every single new policy implemented by our dearly beloved government and swearing not to vote for the incumbents for the rest of your life. Then, when voting day comes, you vote for the incumbents anyway because you're too chickenshit to vote for anyone else. It's all about being afraid to leave your comfort zone.
Being Singaporean is sneering at our cousins in the north and being absurdly proud of our meagre achievements. Meanwhile, JB next weekend? Let's shop for cheap stuff, top up our petrol and buy fags at less than half the price in Singapore. And yes, after that we could go feast like kings at that market in Taman Sentosa
(forgot the actual name of the place)
before coming back to our sunny little island.
Being Singaporean is watching locally produced TV shows and bitching about the crappy plots and poor acting. It's about bitterly lamenting the fact that there is no talent in our little island, yet watching the same crappy serials week after week with a masochistic clandestine pleasure.
Being Singaporean is about insisting on total courtesy from sales and service staff, and complaining to the management when we don't get it. Meanwhile, we completely overlook the fact that we behave like total boors to the sales staff and neglect to show them the slightest speck of courteous behaviour. It's a vicious cycle, guys. We're rude to them, they get more sullen, we get more irritated and rude, they get more sullen, you get the idea.
Being Singaporean is about secretly making fun of all those of your fellow countrymen who happen to have a different skin colour than yours (oh, come now, you know you're all guilty of petty racism). Yet, we unite at coffeeshops and pubs to scream like a bunch of idiots during football season when some millionaire athlete who has absolutely nothing to do with you scores a goal in England.
Aside: I really think it's fucking brilliant that Singaporeans are mostly closet racists (I'm not one, I hate everyone equally, so don't start flaming me, you hypocrites), yet manage to get along so well. The dynamics are almost too convoluted for words. It's like this. In any group of racially homogenious Singaporeans, it's almost politically incorrect not to show signs of being a racist when talking about this or that member of another race. That's closet racism. Yet, deeper down in your heart of hearts, you also realise that you're really all the same, because of all the points
mentioned above, and no matter how absurdly racist you behave in front of your other "racist" friends, you all maintain friendships with members of other races, and if you haven't noticed, so do your friends who profess to be "racists". So you're all really closet non-racists beneath your closet racism beneath your facade of non-racism.
Being Singaporean is about buying beh pio
(lottery in Hokkien) religiously every week, then watching/listening breathlessly with your friends/family while the winning numbers are being announced. After that, of course, you curse bitterly about "almost winning", completely ignoring the fact that the odds against you actually winning were astronomical in the first place.
I am laughing at you guys so hard I can't go on. Yes, I love Singapore. There is no other nation of crazy, boorish idiots that I'd rather turn my nose up to, so I think I'll stay.