The further adventures of an earthbound alien

To respond to a previous comment;
The bronze sculpture, in a previous post, is of kids at play. I don’t know what it is called but my submission for a name would be, ”Someone, quick, call 911! A bunch of kids just fell into the shipping channel”.

There are a couple of these types of sculptures commemorating Singapore’s prosperous past along the river. It was a time of hardship and innocence, both depicted by this sculpture of kids jumping into the river and followed up by a similar sculpture of the same kids being devoured by a big-ass snake. I think it’s funny that they would put this up where swimming is now prohibited. Here is another one on the other side of the bridge:

Cats! It’s a mother cat and her Kitten frolicking close to the edge of oblivion. Cute, and at the same time disturbing. A little like this very Blog.

Next time: A haiku tribute to a pair of giant underpants.

The best way to think of the lunar New Year is to imagine having three or four straight days of Thanksgiving. Friends, family, feasting, fighting, everything but the football (and the fighting, but I’ll explain all that in a later blog. if you are all good.)
They invite family to visit.

I also spend the time with my friends.

They have many elaborate feasts.

I too shall feast.

Actually, I’m just kidding around. The guy from work invited me over to his house for a feast (as was mentioned in a previous blog) I was planning to take hong bao (Red packet money) as a gift for the kids, but I was told that it was the wrong holiday for that. So for now I keep the doe! I also made mention of banging gongs and worshiping dead relatives; again, wrong holiday. That would be Ching ming and it is sometime during the summer.
So I bought a bunch of money colored flowers and had a feast. Here's a picture of what they call a steam boat.

Basically it’s a pot of hot water that you throw things into, let them simmer for a tick, then fish them out, put everything on a bed of rice for a second then wolf it down. I happen to love this. Anyone who knows me know that I live food that you have to fiddle with. Crab, artichokes, fondue, ishiaki…
And fiddle with it you do. I found out where the prawn balls go; (when not dangling from a prawn) into the water, bloop! And so also goes the rice balls, the clam balls, the beef balls the pork balls. …more balls than anyone’s ever seen. Including Elton John, I thank You. Hands up, who didn't see that one coming? OK I guess I've used up my quota of "prawn ball" jokes. So I'll stop now.
You know the stuff is done when it floats to the top. The meal took about 4 hours and there was still stuff left. It was FAN-tastic. (I found out that Fan is "rice" in Chinese, so I made a little pun there. I hope you all enjoyed that as much as I did)


By the way, the Chinese guy burps at the table and it seems to bug the Korean woman, though she never said anything. And everyone hates it when the Japanese slurp their noodles. Luckily, there were none there. (noodles nor Japanese) And as long as I’m at it, they aren't too fond of jokes about prawn balls or giant underwear. So let’s just keep this blog to ourselves, shall we?

Where did you come from
Jumbo, hangered underpants,
Hanging there like that?

Have you been misplaced?
Did you fall from an airplane
Into my stairwell?

And you look so clean…
At least I think you are clean…
I’ll get no closer.


Next time: They fall from the sky!

I know you’re out there Plumber’s daughter. And I have yet to see you leave a comment on this blog. So maybe I can make you post, by using the power of the song parody, bugs bunny style:

She was the plumber’s daughter.
She knew of his problem down there.
When he bent down
Her jaw hit the ground
and the sight of it blew off her hair.

Let that be a lesson to all of you out there. You can’t just read and go away. I need feedback. I’m a needy guy!


Hey, everyone! CRAPPY NEW YEAR!
Next time more mind blowing stuff!

"Singlish" Is the unofficial language of Singapore. The more proper Singaperisians frown on it (Like most older people when they hear the next generations spin on the vernacular).

Rather than try to imitate Singlish I thought I’d post an i-chat I had with some of the people from the office. Obviously, they have real names but just to keep it simple I’ll just use their initials. It’s tough to separate out the I-chat abbreviations and the phonetic spelling. But you kind of get a clue as to how people talk around here. I was trying to find out what where I should go for the Chinese New Year celebration. For some reason, they were all crowded into one office.

u may wan to check out the lunar new year celebrations @ these places: the marina, the padang (the 1 we see out of our office) & chinatown. there will be fireworks , lion dances, strange (to you) foods & lots of gay (happy) people.
hahahah!!! guess who is teaching me to write ya...
2:45 PM
what day are they doing this?
hold on Rob this is "M" here using to check something
are you all in there?
yes
I'M MISSING THE PARTY?
Cocktails?
2:50 PM
hahahha!!! me "s" back again.... the fireworks will be held tomolo night, ready for the countdown @ 12midnight. Pls watch out for the SPGs (Sarong Party Girls) FYI, tis SYTs (Sweet Young Things) except for the occasional Ah Kwa (prefer GWEI-LOS) (white expats)
Free Singish lesson from "H".
thanks ...la
hahahha!!!
Cheers! Wish U good luck!
thanks,

I like to kid one of the guys in the office (H) that he has a bit of an obsession with gay people. It really bugs him and I think it’s funny. I think he’s trying to zing me back by implying that I’m cursing for “Ah Kaw”. The women in the office get a big kick out of it. I guess it started on my third day on the job when I walked into the office and said to the crew,
“where do you go in this town for some really good gay sex?” And "H" knew. (For those of you who don’t know me, I’m not really gay or looking for prostitutes, I just like to keep people on their toes.)
The “Ah Kwa” he was talking about is their term for a transvestite prostitute. "H" says you should check the baggage compartment before getting on the train.

Which brings me to another translation/ Chinese New year delema:

This is Bak kwa. It is pounded and roasted meat. It is a traditional snack on Chinese New year. I had some and it’s very good. I’m just a little hesitant about ordering it, as the word is a little too close to Ah Kwa. Given the way I mumble and have a proficiency for butchering peoples native tongue, one wonders what I’d really get.

Another thing I learned that day was that all the stores would be closed for three days after the New Year celebration. They said, on Friday, "Better get all your grocery shopping done tonight". So yeah, I beat it to the store to stock up on food. Here’s where the adventure really begins:
To recap, I’ve been here for about four weeks now and haven’t really gone in the kitchen since that first day. So no pans, no plates just a package of festive chopsticks with party people on the front. I go everywhere by bus. I used to do it all the time in Chicago, no sweat. What I used to do there was to buy what I wanted to eat that night and maybe a little something extra. …Just enough to fit into my backpack. It was a great way for a 20-something year old to live. Same thing in Berlin. But now, I have to get three days worth of supplies (starting from scratch) and hump them back to my place on a new years eve packed bus. Shouldn’t be a problem, right? Here are a few of the choices at the store:




Kee-ke-ke!
Besides pausing for the obvious joke, I have no use for these types of items. I have no way to cook them.
So when in doubt, I go for the old American Stand-bys:

That's some freakin yummy-ass looking stuff, right there.
The rest of the store looked pretty much like this:

Right… Looks like it’s time to start that diet.

Next time: The feast of a thousand question marks!

Before I left, I told my daughters that monkeys lived in the park here.
No one ever told me that they did; I just assumed. And after having jogged in the park around the reservoir several times and not seeing any monkeys I began to regret telling her something that I just made up. Well today I saw monkeys. I usually jog on weekdays, in the morning. Today is Sunday and I got a late start. I don’t know if monkeys sleep in or also have jobs that they have to go to during the week, but Sunday about 10 AM they were out. These were some sort of Macaque monkey. They look like how you’d think monkeys would look; long tails and curious little looks. They act like little selfish people. With all their junk hanging down there, dragging in the mud. Apparently they can get pretty mean when they get upset. That’s one of the first things I was told. I visualized a monkey attack. I pictured hundreds of tiny insane people jumping on me with their grabby little hands and sharp, bitey teeth. Reaching, pulling biting…

(I didn't take this picture. I stole it off the web.)
So, now I’m running around the park and these things are all over the place, playing cards and smoking pipes, just leering at me. And I’m wondering how close is too close. “Upset” is such a vague term. Exactly what is the sort of thing that would “upset” a monkey. Will it be like I wandered on to their turf wearing banana pants and holding a “monkeys are pussies” sign? Or will it be like, at the zoo where they’d rather just sit around and finger themselves? (But then again, there was a wall and a moat at the zoo.) Are they upset by people running? Would they get more upset if I sped up or slowed down? I know what to do if a dog starts chasing me when I’m running. But a wild, nutty, pipe smoking, grabby, bitey, little insane person with dirty junk, what would I do?
(As long as I'm stealing photos...)
So, I do what I normally do when I’m confused; I try to think about something else, and I just kept running. One asked me for a banana, but other than that, no problems.
They are nice looking little guys, brown short fur, clean looking. Not like the ones I saw at the Monkey show on Santosa Island. Those were Pigtailed Macaque. They were also cute little guys. They used females for the show because the males were too aggressive.

It was a typical animal show. A very happy guy skips out to center stage, lays a little zoological info on the crowd then spends the rest of the show making fun of them by making the featured animal hoist flags, pull carts and pretend to be pirates. But, no matter what she (the monkey) did the mind would always return to one outstanding feature. (Or should I say and outsitting feature.) Her greatest asset was her butt. It was very colorful; red, blue, green, and it was huge. She had an ass that looked like her psychedelic, rear impact air bag had deployed. It was a mating thing that I won’t get into right now, but the average person can figure it out.
Needless to say I was a little preoccupied, I didn’t really enjoy the show. The monkey would hoist the flag and I’d think, “God what a disgusting ass.” They'd pull the little cart around and I'd think, "God what a disgusting ass. They'd fire up a pipe and I'd think, what a disgusting ass. But they're still loveable:
Next time: God do I miss my wife!

Welcome to all new comers! My blog is open to anyone with good intentions. And to those who like to spread animosity and ill-will… I don’t know what I can do about that. I guess, for you, that “no running with scissors” rule has been revoked. So, grab a pair and go wild, man. I feel comfortable in saying that as no one has yet had anything bad to say about my blog.

And a special welcome to boredhousewife, who’s presence on my humble, ill spelled chunk of cyberspace is looked upon as a great honor. (God I wish I were half as eloquent as that in real life.) (Note to self: try to be smarter.) It is highly advised to visit her blog which served as the inspiration for this and, I’m sure, many other blogs (wow, listen to me go! I’m on fire.)
check her out at: http://boredhousewife.blogspot.com/
(there goes the eloquence, back to normal) (note to self: don’t push it.)
Let me try that again…
Anyone wishing to see someone on the verge of greatness, the first violent throes of a person who’s creative energies are finally pushing to the surface after long years of repression, a person… (Nope, I’ve lost it.) Just go to her blog and read up.

Welcome Orange. It’s nice to meet you and your haikus. Even though I think I know that it isn’t you, but none other than, the Bordehousewife under the thin veil of an orange disguise. So, I guess it’s nice to have you here by proxy.

Regarding Haiku’s I find the rigid Japanese form a challenge. (I have a tendency to “go on”.) I’ve always had a hard time with poetry as everything I do seems to have that Dr. Seuss rhythm to it. And my prose… well, I keep those to myself.

So, enough about me and my new guests, and a slightly weird obsession with the rigidity, let’s get back to my dumb observations and photos.

Besides standing at the edge of the reservoir and going aaaaaaaaH! The residents of Singapore are pretty much the same as Americans. They pick their noses with their thumbs and think no one will notice. They won’t let anyone get ahead of them while driving and lose their minds when someone does. And they like to eat. They are all about eating. They get up early to eat. They stay up late to eat and, for all I know, they probably dream of eating. But, for some reason they’re not big and fat. And when they’re done eating they get up, leave their dirty dishes and things on the table and (I think) go and look for another place to eat.

In Malaysia, at the gas stations they have “Cup of Corn”. I didn’t take a picture because I didn’t know how my phone/ camera worked at the time (your loss). So, there’s a pot with corn warming in it. And some cups that say, “cup of corn” on them. You take the spoon and spoon some corn in your cup. Then a monkey comes out and hits you with a fish. Ok, no monkey. Sorry, I thought it was funny that they would sell something as simple as a cup of corn. But as I type I find that this point is past its prime. Still, I wonder if your average Malaysian, while driving, looks up from the road and says, “corn! I would really like some corn. …Maybe in a cup. Hey, you kids back there, do you want a cup of corn?”

Here’s a little ditty that they sell at the 7-11s around here:

That’s mashed potatoes shooting out of that tap. So don’t make the mistake of reaching for the sugar cones.

Yesterday’s lunch!
Maybe I’ll make this a new feature here on the old blog. Wouldn’t everyone like to know what I had for lunch? Well I don’t care! Here it is:

This is what is know as Laksa. It’s basically what we’d call coconut soup with short little spaghetti noodles in it and some seafood. The best place in Singapore to get Laksa is Katong. Katong, as far as I could gather, is a neighborhood here in Singapore that is famous for their Laksa. See how it works? We also had this:

I forget what this is called. It’s as fish paste wrapped in a tei leaf and roasted over a grill. I’ve seen these all over the place and wondered what they were but I never had the nerve to try one. I usually wait to see how other people eat something before I try it.…Wouldn’t want to make too big of a fool of myself.
Speaking of that…

Next week: Monkeys; They’re like fuzzy little insane people.

Here's a clever limerick that I heard on the radio and thought of my old pal Mister Ceo:
There was a young man from park slope
Who liked to be tied up with rope
And forced on his knees
To eat black eyed peas
Which was good for his health
One would hope.

Next item:

Not just any food, this stuff is Cooked!

Next Item:

OK, everyone Five, Four, Three, Two, One... CHOPSTICKS!!!!!!
Happy Chinese New Year!
Did you notice the woman on the far left? She's having such a good time, her hat blew right off her head.

This is a picture of a lush Singapore freeway. All the freeways are lined with this type of tree. It makes the freeway nice and shady. This type of tree has a real name but the only one I could remember was what the Malaysians called it, “the Five O’clock Tree.” In the evening this tree’s leaves fold up… Let me stop there.
I know it’s kind of lame to put a picture of a tree on my blog that I don’t know the real name of, but, I don’t remember where I saw the sign that broke the whole thing down. I think it was in a park somewhere. And even If I did remember where the sign was, I probably wouldn’t go back just to find out what the tree is really called. After you find out that the leaves fold up that’s about all you really want to know anyway, right?
And as far as the Malaysians calling it the five O’clock tree, I’m not really sure I believe this. The Park Service or the National Tree Plaque People probably thought it would be really clever to put that on the sign. It will bring up images of ancient Malaysians running through the primitive jungle naming things in that quaint little way ancient people had, they probably thought. However, even if you believe the ancient Malaysians had the perception to notice one tree’s leaves getting slightly smaller in the vast jungle canopy; in the dark! You would be forced to question how they knew it was really five o’clock. Were the Malaysians the only primitive race to invent the clock before they invented pants? Or were they retarded enough to finally get around to naming the tree in 1966, well after clocks had been introduced to Malaysia? And does the sun go down at five o’clock in Malaysia? I’m sure I’m missing something here. I can remember wondering how the pilgrims could name a rock after a car that wouldn’t be invented for hundreds of years. Maybe I will go back and read the sign a little more closely. I’ll keep you all up to date on that!

Remember, these are items of only slight interest.

Did you know that Bono’s last name is Hughes? His father’s name was Bob Hughes. How cool is that? I share the same last name with a guy who only has one name.
…Slightly interesting?
Here is a picture of a cat on a pile of garbage:

...and two iced coffees:

And a picture of my building that I'm quite proud of:

And this:

This is a pile of salt in a leaf shaped glass bowl sitting on the garbage/ tray return of the Princep Street Subway Sandwich shop.
I remember seeing something like this at sushi 101. Only the salt bowl was outside, next to the door, on the ground. I assume it’s some religious thing. Does anyone have a clue what this is about? And before anyone gives me any smart-ass crack about using it on my sandwich, let me just say that I didn’t. Although, if I were a god I’d rather they made me the Italian BMT. (But, make it a good one. They don’t taste so good here. The cold cuts are of questionable origin.)
Finally, the maid.
Her name is Cumari and she seems to be from India. I would ask her but her command of the English language is only slightly better than my command of whatever language she’s knocking out. To answer the question burning a hole in all your brains; No, I didn’t leave her here alone while she cleaned the place. The reason wasn’t a matter of trust, because, once I take my computer out of here the net worth of all my remaining assets is slightly less than most hermits. It was a simple matter of key. I only had the one. And if that wasn’t the only question burning a hole in your brain then the answer is still no, you pervert!
So anywayze, I worked at the glass dining room table and nodded when she would come into the room and say things while waving her arms around. The end result was a very clean apartment. Once she left I explored around to see how she did. Check this out:
Before:

After:

I thought, how funny would it be to switch the pictures around and make it look like she took my underpants and threw them on the bed, for some reason. Then I thought, Oh, hey. She folded my underpants! She took them off the bed and folded them up! I thought Jen was the only one who folded underpants. I think of folding underpants as the second greatest waste of time known to mankind. Now I find out that the whole world has gone mad.

Next time: THE greatest waste of time known to mankind.

Singapore flower
You’re wet and covered with ants.
Vanda Miss Joaquim

The national flower of Singapore, and now a nice haiku.

I’m afraid I'm guilty of generalizing. Not everyone in Singapore is Chinese, not everyone who celebrates Chinese New Year is Chinese, and not all Chinese celebrate Chinese New Year. But, I’m quite comfortable with this observation: Everyone likes boogie. I’ll stand by that one. In fact, I’ll put that one on a table where everyone can see it, and boogie around it.
There are people from everywhere here. Most of the caucasians are Australian. There are a few English and some Americans. As far as I know I haven’t seen any Europeans. But in all fairness, I don’t go running up to other white people, slip them the “whitey” handshake and find out where they’re from. There are people from Malaysia, the Philippines, India, Thailand, Jakarta, Cambodia, China, a bunch of nasty, little dinky islands that I haven’t bothered to learn the names of, Viet Nam, Toyland, Japan, China, and refugees from Funky Town. And boy is it easy to spot the Yanks. They are usually found in the financial district, wearing flack vests and shouting very slowly to tiny people. For the most part they look confused and lost. They obviously haven’t read my blog. If they had, they’d be sliding into Singapore like a hotdog slides into a bun.
Actually, for someone who’s never been east of Berlin or west of Hawaii, Singapore is an easy intro to the ways of the east. So far, everyone is nice enough to know my language. There are a lot of familiar landmarks like Starbucks, McDonalds and Borders Book stores. But there are enough exotic things to interest someone who is loosely committed to a blog.
For example:

...Notice, no knives.

Singapore is an island, and I haven’t seen the ocean yet. I suppose I would have had I been vacationing, but who knows I might have gone to the Grand Canyon instead. No ocean there either. Before I was offered this job I had no real idea where Singapore was or what it was famous for, besides the obvious Singapore Sling. All I knew was that it hung down off some Asian landmass and Dorothy Lamoure played Bing and Bob like a couple saps here. The Singapore Sling was invented at the long bar in the Raffles Hotel. Anyone who knows anything about exotic (girl) drinks will tell you that that’s just one theory. Right Mark? In fact if you google it you’ll find its history before you find the recipe. (But, don’t do it right now, I still have more to say.)
My take on it is, if you want to seriously discuss the origin of the Singapore Sling there had better be one in front of me. So all the drunk historians eventually find their way to the Raffles Hotel and order up one of these babies. They are delicious little suckers, the sling; made out of walnuts and hand cream with just a touch of gin, as far as I know. They are so popular at the Raffles long bar that they have the stuff coming out of taps like water. I saw the bartender make, like, fifty at once. The tourists all take pictures of eachother holding up their drinks. There are so many cameras flashing you’d think the drink was some kind of movie star or something. Here’s my picture:

Sorry, no flash on my camera phone. I feel so left out!

I’m so proud to live in a town that has a drink named after it. It’s a new experience for me. I'm finally on par with my former college roommate from Long Island. He always said that on Long Island they called them “Ice Teas.” I think he was full of it. By the way, no one calls them “slings” around here. The few locals that I’ve talked to about the drink won’t have anything to do with them. They cost too much. $19 a pop! And they’re gone in one sip!! Dang!
The few locals that I know don’t really drink. (Granted, no one drinks like a WASP) But, I don’t blame them. A case of Guinness Stout costs $89.55! That’s marked down from $97.90. That’s $60 US. Now go picture the woman who cleaned my house for $7 per hour. That’s like three beers an hour. If all you did was work and drink beer, (Chuck) you couldn’t even come out even. Imagine the fix you'd be in if you cleaned with beer!

finally,

I'm sorry gecko.
I guess I should check the door
before I close it.

Next time...
Feah! who knows.
Any requests?

O where have you been,
my experienced golf ball?
What stories have you?

I don’t know what people pray for. I always figured that if I wanted something, it was up to me. I know that’s a sin in some religions. I know because I heard it on the radio as I drove through Ohio.
A few short weeks ago I would have prayed for Quicktime. But I didn’t think of it. But, now I have it. I have it because I was persistent and not afraid to make a fool of myself, and most of all because I have smart friends. Thanks Joe! Now the Quicktime program is installed and it’s nice, and I didn’t even have to bother the lord.






The Lord


What most people are going for here is prosperity. I think that’s a very admirable goal. It sounds better than, “winning the lottery”. Coming in close second is fertility. (I saw a list somewhere and forgot what number three was. It could have been to avoid Ohio.)
The Chinese New Year is a real big deal here. Go figure! The stores are all loaded down with red and gold things. Hanging things, growing things, eating things, you name it. See if you can guess why the color gold figures so prominently. I’ll wait…
It’s a good thing fertility wasn’t number one. (White isn’t a very festive color.) All I know is that I get three days off. Maybe I’ll climb aboard, and bang a gong and go worship some dead relatives. That’s when I’ll be told that I have my holidays mixed up.
I’ve been invited to a friend’s house for the traditional meal. It could be “heads ahoy” for all I know. But I’ll try to make a good show and eat around it. I think I’m supposed to take a gift and I’m pretty sure what I’ll do. (I’ll tell you because I haven’t told anyone here what the blog address is. And my surprise will remain intact. ) For the kids there’s red pocket money. Jen discovered this in Hong Kong. What you do is get a special red envelope and shove a couple bucks in it. Not completely unlike a fin in a birthday card from grandma. But, the envelope is what’s important here. Not necessarily how much is inside. (yeah, sure. That’s what we told grandma too.) Married people don’t get red pocket money (even though they’re the ones who could use the doe!) Red pocket money (like Trix) is just for kids …and singles.
The other thing people give each other is orange and yellow food. Tangerine, cumquats, grapefruit, nuts, candies… really old chicken. (just kidding there)
Again, orange, like gold. The neat thing is that they sell indoor plants with fruit on them. I wanted to get one just to have some fruit handy. But, I was told they aren’t for eating.











































This is the year of the dog. Tradition holds that kids born in the year of the dog are honest and faithful to those they love but they tend to worry too much and find fault with others. They also like to chase cars, run around and lick their nuts… and their cumquats and grapefruits… What? Oh, hey! You… with the sick mind! Stop right there. If you just got some nuts you’d want to lick them. Wouldn’t you? So just stop that! Geeeze, I can’t take you guys anywhere! (Sorry, it’s 1 AM) I’d tell you more about Chinese New Year but, that’s about all I know. I haven’t been through one. It starts in two weeks. Besides, lets face it folks, if you want the real facts you might want to Google them. Hey, it’s me remember? Maybe After it’s over I’ll recap.In the mean time, here’s what a festive tool kit looks like:














So, does anyone else think it’s a bad idea to give a tool kit to someone who’s just had a couple beers?

I scrape quietly
Into the bathroom with my
Holiday on ice.

Next time: Who are all these people?

Here are a bunch of pictures of stuff that I’ve eaten. I won’t tell you what anything is called because I didn’t write it down. And really, would any of you remember? I can, however tell you what’s in it… for the most part. And provide my witty observation. Just try to avoid that! This nasty customer is shaved ice, sugar syrup, molasis, corn and beans. That stuff on top... beats me!




Behold the typical “American” meal. That’s mutton with gravy, French fries, garlic bread, shredded iceberg lettuce and some cold baked beans. The coke was my idea.






For the most part, you eat at food courts. You could eat in a restaurant, but that’s for tourists and rich people. There are a lot of choices. I can’t tell the difference yet. It all seems to be brown, runny stuff on noodles. But, give me a month or two. When you’re done, just leave the stuff there and walk away. That, I can’t get used to.

It all starts out colorful enough.















Seriously, why does this make a difference? I love chicken. I buy the cooked ones all the time at home. I don't eat the whole thing. I wouldn't eat the head. But, you leave that noggin on and I can't even think about eating it.





Shouldn't that say, "Yum"?










That's chicken on a puffed rice bun. You should see the TV commercial for this one. Apparently it causes Asians to break dance. Imagine if they managed to create this when the rest of the world was break-dancing. They could be the world leaders in cool. But as it is... Not so cool.
That’s enough for tonight. I’ll put more food-stuff in as I find it.
Next week: year of the dog.