extreme makeover

Right now, the makeover doesn't look quite extreme. This blog will undergo some changes, hopefully that will just rev me up to write more and about more meaningful topics. And not just a little nip here and dash of botox there. This is the Travolta/Cage deal.

And if my neurons are all gassed up for the conception of a design (from scratch *fingers crossed*), I'd appreciate some spare neurons to come up with a new blog name. Not that dookie kookie is good enough anymore, but just that it was the only thing that came to me way back when.

Below are some suggestions from myself and from some of you crazy sods:

Sapps' contributions for a better world are:

• Sunshine Tumbletots and Lollipops
• Sweet Sunshine Rainbow (The ambassador of Bimboland is anxious to recruit!)
  

Chewie took a break from the real world to help out:

• Purple Phone Box (Someone is sympathetic to my Doctor Who geekiness)
  
• Charlie's World
• Charmander (with the added incentive - as if the mockery does not suffice - of Chewie renaming his own blog 'Pikachu'. Note to those who don't know, Chewie's last name is Chu)

Gau put down his Vodka long enough to shout across the Channel:

• Mon Blog à Toi (Literally translates to My Blog of Yours. My gang of barjots is comprised of a Me, You, Him, Her, It, One. And I'm not Me, but You)
• Waitin' for Charl (How very Beckett, yet so enduring by the fact I'm always on time yeah? And coupled with a very very tortuous play on words that is French humour)

Sourgrapes pulled a Britism randomly out of the air upon request:

• Taking the Mickey

Finally, some of my residual neuron power:

• A Cert'ain Number o' Years (Just know that I reapeat this phrase randomly and obsessively with a Scottish accent)
• Packrat Compulsive (Cos it's the truth)
• Charlatan
• Anything Goes
• Splotch (Everyone can do with more onomatopoeia in their lives. And at one point in time, i had Splotch written in chocolate sauce on my forearm. Which is good enough reason for me)
• Chinwagging (Britism meaning chatting, probably of the idle kind. I'm chuffed by this really)

Do your kind deed of the day and give an opinion.

the fruits of overstressed brains can be delicious

Graffiti by medical students made my exam that little bit more bearable today.

Vive H5N1. A bas le Tamiflu!

Long live H5N1 (bird flu virus). Down with Tamiflu!

Vas te faire emboliser

Go embolise yourself/go get an embolism. As you would say 'go eff yourself'

T'es un nephrovore

You're a nephrovore (nephros = kidney)

in need of post-exam amazon click therapy

Consider it this way: what would you say if a blonde homecoming queen fell in a love with a short Japanese businessman? He treats her cruelly, the goes home for three year, during which time she prays to his picture and turns down marriage from a young Kennedy. Then, when she learns he has remarried, she kills herself. Now, I believe you would consider this girl to be a deranged idiot, correct? But because it's an Oriental who kills herself for a Westerner - ah! - you find it beautiful.

-- Song Liling, 'M. Butterfly' I,IV

britification

Holidays are ‘ere! Except well, first semester in French public universities never really allows for a proper holiday. Oh come on, who bloody schedules exams on the first week of January? Bollocks I say, dog bollocks.

Blimey. I’ve gone and turned Brit on meself, haven't I?

The top reason for this can only be Doctor Who, otherwise known as the culmination of my geekiness. This English nirvana of Sci Fi, the zenith of British popular culture, this portal through space and time in the form of a very retro blue police call box. Its occupant being the last existing Time Lord, known simply as the Doctor. The. Doctor. Doctor What? Doctor Who? Exactly.

He’s a bit daft really, loopy face, one eyebrow almost constantly cocked and the goofiest smile ever - just this skinny geek battling evil, anywhere from the 18^th century to the year 5 billion at the end of the world or modern day on a parallel universe.

Among the villains so far:

Daleks, essentially robot pepper pots with one eye stalk, a plunger for a hand and a laser for the other;

Cybermen, ‘upgraded’ humans reduced to brains in cybernetic suits and emotional inhibitors;

A werewolf, (or as the Doctor puts it, a lupine wavelength haemovariform) worshipped and protected by a band of pale, bald, white Shaolin-esque monks;

Slitheens, a lumpy family of convicts from the planet Raxacoricofallapatorius (I love that word) who kill humans, wear their skin with a zipper on the forehead and pass a ridiculous amount of gas.

Ah, you can’t help but love the Brits.

A spin-off called Torchwood (which incidentally is an anagram of Doctor Who. Smashing stuff.) has me hooked as well, centering around an institute created to investigate extraterrestrial activity on Earth and prepare the humans for the future. The series is set a shade darker, in terms of personal agendas, skeletons in the closet, alien encounters and sexuality. Apparently the creators wanted to break all monosexual stereotypes, ‘quaint human categories’, and well, by the 7^th episode, every character has already shared a same-sex snog.

The show is not nearly as captivating though, a lot of it is more affected and in a way bogged down by the need to be realistic in its contemporary settings. There’s a general opinion that the large fan base is loyal not to the show but to Captain Jack. Ah but of course. Captain Jack Harkness, a Time Agent-turned-con artist-turned-faithful sidekick to the Doctor-turned- leader of Torchwood Three, a 51^st century omnisexual being (‘so many races, so little time’). Captain Jack Harkness, played by Scottish-American actor, John Barrowman: Gorgeous bloke, perfect smile with perfect teeth, humorous and affable, a jolly good actor with a few bad movie choices (I’m talking Shark bloomin’ Attack III: Megalodon bad) and a lyrical baritone who’s performed in over a dozen West End musicals. Brilliant brilliant voice. In short, my dream man come true. Number one, ranking even above Seth Green and Wentworth Miller, and well, he’s gay. *SIGH* and getting civil union-ised end December. *SIGH* So this is how it’s like being in love with a gay man. I’m feeling right helpless.

OH! Take That! They’re back together after 10 years with a new album! I was chuffed to bits when I heard. A Take That fan and not bleeding ashamed of saying it. I caught a video of them performing at the Royal Variety this year and it’s just gobsmacking to see them together again. They look EXACTLY the same, still the same cheesy dance riot for ‘Pray’ and as usual, it seems like the other poor sods just gaze emotionally somewhere off-camera while Gary Barlow anchors the group. Another dishy chap I adore. They still sound brilliant, still that magic touch of instant success, with a lot less cheese and a more mature feel to it. Check out the beautiful first single ‘Patience’.

Ok, so Brit telly, Brit bloke, Brit music… Cor, I just love Britain and everything Brit right now. After all, they’ve had running water for over ten years, an underground tunnel that links them to Peru and they invented the cat.

Oh, and. Raxacoricofallapatorius.

are you a responsible sexually-mature adult?

Make sure you carry your sexual consent form with you.

'Yeah I guess it breaks the mood a little, but it's the right thing to do'

a much procrastinated update

Maybe the lack of Internet didn't do much for my writing, but evidently, neither did its presence. As can attest the sluggishness of this blog, or stagnance might be a better word for it. I choose to blame it entirely on certain environmental factors namely cerebral and logic deficiencies, the details of which I should already have ranted and raved on msn in one way or another and which I will exclude lest the perpetuators embark.

So what has been happening?

Still having classes, very broad spectrum stuff. I'm really impatient to get the first sem over and done with. Second sem promises to be full of viruses, bacteria, parasites and indignation over the fact that millions of children in developping countries die of diseases that have been relegated to anonymity in the first world (rotavirus anyone?) I got my stage, lab work on the molecular epidemiology of human enteroviruses. Hopefully it doesn't mean lots of software tools and hours in front of a computer instead of on the bench. Woopie-doo yippie-yay.

Went to watch Vincent Delerm in concert in Aix-en-Provence, this reallllly amazing guy who is just regal in front of a piano. He's one of the stars of what's called la nouvelle scène française, where the lyrics often exploit name-dropping for realism and is almost always violently unsingable. Watching him live makes me gladly want to give up a leg to be able to play like that. Damn my freakishly short fingers!

Had short work stints in Paris as an interpreter at the International Food Fair as well. That was interesting, partly due to the free food samples and the occasional 'I speak bad Spanish, you speak bad French, let's just try to understand each other, ok?'. It would have been better had they not have the bright idea to dress up in horrid fake SIA uniforms from Chinatown that made us look more like the Nonya aunties in the Bugis Junction basement.

In Paris, I fell in love. With a bookstore. (I know I'm a geek) Naan is the person to thank for this love affair. The Shakespeare & Co. bookstore that was seen in the movie Before Sunset, and it's the most beautiful, charming English bookstore tucked away on the left bank of the Seine that you'll ever see. Cosy and welcoming, beds for you to lounge on and read, books are wall to wall, typewriter left out for aspiring poets, willing them even to peck at its idle keys. I chatted a bit with the guy who was running the place that evening, and he was living that idyllic struggling writer dream, the kind where a short visit to Paris kept him there for several years, where his days are spent writing and his nights tending a bookstore. The kind I've only read about in novels, the kind I would love to pursue but will never muster up the courage or conjure up the talent to do.

Took a coach up to London from Paris, hitting the Channel crossing at 3 frickin am. Although I only had about 2 days there, there was so much to do and see and spend money on! My main reason for going to London was to watch Wicked, the musical prequel to The Wizard of Oz because the original Broadway lead Idina Menzel was going to be in the London production until December. And it was fabulous, she was fabulously green! One afternoon was spent just in and around West End, looking at the Theatre Museum and checking out all the quaint bookstores on Charring Cross, another was spent in Craven Cottage, watching Fulham get beat by Wigan. One evening on Wicked, and another on the Susan Hall play 'Woman in Black' which I highly recommend, but cannot go on expounding on it without letting slip any spoilers. Wicked and Woman in Black are must-sees. As in MUST-SEE.

I really need to find a way to satisfy my thirst for theatre, drama and music right now, now that I'm not doing theatre anymore because of simple stupid geographical and transportational issues. And while I know that the dichotomy between arts and science is a largely perceived one, as well as a very Singaporean one, I can't help but wonder if I've gone into the wrong field...

how to get internet in 58 days

Wow. That only took like 2 whole months!
To put the whole story in point form:

- Clear it with the roommates
- Paying 27.50 Eur to reactivate old phone line
- Bitch about having to pay 15 Eur/month just to keep phone line alive without being able to call
- Apply with ISP
- Wait for them to mail my modem over
- Wait for them to mail my modem over
- Wait for them to mail my modem over
- Find out that the postal service is on strike
- Bitch about the postal service being on strike
- Wait for the strike to end
- Wait for the strike to end
- Wait for the strike to end

Remind me why I love France?