Category Archives: Sydney

Glebe Street Fair 2009

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This post is about an event that took place slightly three weeks back, on November 15. I was supposed to post this up before my trip to Blue Mountains but due to a sucky Internet connection, it took me a very long time to upload the videos. I gave up halfway and went on my trip first. I’ve finally managed to upload the videos, so here goes.

Rather long post, so get a cup of hot chocolate (or whatever is your chosen poison), some snacks and enjoy.

***

Two weeks ago, on Sunday, a street fair took place just a few roads down from my hostel.

I only found out about the fair when I popped by Coles to get some food and wondered why my area was experiencing a gridlock of cars.

Curious, I walked up Francis Street to find out the cause of the gridlock when I saw a fair taking place.

A massive fair. Glebe Street Fair.

The event was advertised on flyers and posters previously and I saw the advertisement a few times. But since it was during exam week, I didn’t pay attention to the date of the fair and completely forgotten about it over the next few days.

So I was standing in the middle of a fair with throngs of people crowding around me and stalls after stalls lining the whole of Glebe Point Road. My trip to Coles abandoned, I decided to explore the fair and just soak in the atmosphere. Besides, the skies were clear, the sun was out, the weather was just right and I needed some time to de-stress from the exams.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The yellow road in the middle is Glebe Point Road, the location of Glebe Street Fair.

So what is the Glebe Street Fair? It is basically a major fair held every November and attracts over 100,000 people to the Glebe suburb. The Glebe Street Fair is currently in its 26th year (Source: http://www.glebestreetfair.com/).

I took a jaunt around Glebe Street Fair, enjoying all the sights and sounds. The stalls were selling an elective mix of homemade handcrafts, goods, paintings, photos, knick-knacks, fashion, hats and of course, food from different cultures. It was like a major flea market and a bigger version of the weekly Glebe Markets that is held in the same location.

Luckily I brought my camera along. Unfortunately, I was so caught up with all the sight-seeing that I only took a few photos.


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The crowd at Glebe Street Fair. I like the guy’s white hat, very simple and classy. I plan to get one too.

After trundling along the whole length of Glebe Point Road, I came across a street performer who was just starting his routine:

 

 

 

 

 

 

This photo was taken halfway through the performance. I took a couple of videos of the street performer. I was lucky to get “front seats” as the guy was just starting and the crowd had not gathered yet. He was very, very entertaining and I stayed from start till end. The first two videos are pretty short about 2 to 3 minutes while the last one is 11 minutes. The videos cut off at some point because my arms got tired and I had to rest. Hey, the sun was strong that day!

 

This was taken during the beginning of his performance. Soon the crowd gathered and he became very enthusiastic. I like how he condoned off the area by pouring water, it is very mystical in a way, very hypnotizing. Or maybe because it was getting hot and I was dying for a drink. 

I laughed when he saw me and shouted “Camera shot!”. He didn’t know that I was recording his show instead of taking pictures. The reason why the video cut off abruptly was because I accidentally pressed the shooting button and so the camera stopped recording.

 

The street performer pushing his body through a tennis racket. The video stopped because my arms got tired.

 

 

 

(The third video could not be uploaded because it was 11 minutes long and since it was over the 10 minutes limit, it got rejected. THANKS FOR WASTING MY TIME, YOUTUBE!)

This damn video took 24 hours to upload. Fucking Internet connection. FUCK Allegro. 

Anyway, in the last video, it showed his last stunt, which consisted of him standing on top of a tall metal pole and getting a member of the audience to throw knifes, red balls and a spear at him. After he caught them all, he would proceed to juggle them while balancing on the pole.

One of his trademark is his high-pitched, nervous laughter and every time he did that, the crowded laughed along.

He has awesome tattoos, but I digress. 

After that last performance, I contributed $3 to his piggy bank. The majority of the crowd did the same and I saw some people donating $50. But he was a good entertainer and provided a very good show despite being under the blazing sun.

I could have contributed more, but I’m a student living off my Dad at the moment.

I need a job real bad.

After the performance, I walked around the street when I chanced upon this store. It was at the far end of Glebe Point Street and I would have missed it if I was not paying attention because it was a small stall surrounded by people. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Panama Hats!

It is always my dream, ever since I started this hat hobby of mine, to own a Panama Hat. Not just any Panama Hat, it must be one that is made from Ecuadorian straw. A Panama Hat made from Ecuadorian straw is one of the strongest, most versatile and long lasting straw hat. Keep it in a good condition with the occasional cleaning and brushing, it can last for more than a decades, probably more.

So containing my excitement, I casually strolled up to the stall and gently picked up my object of desire. Just from the touch, I knew this was the real deal. It was strong but yet light and well made. Many times when I went into stores looking for straw hats, they felt flimsy and poorly made. The reason? They were made out of paper and masqueraded as straw hats.

I have nothing against these hats but when I get a hat, I want it to last me for a long period, probably decades, if possible, a family heirloom. Just imagine: “And now, the forty odd fedoras, caps, hats and headgears from Zareth, who left this behind as his legacy and heirloom.”

I examined the hat carefully and turned it around to examine the sweatband inside when I noticed a small plastic thing attached to the hat and on it there was a tag stating:

“The pinch of the hat has been reinforced.”

What is the “pinch”? Well, the pinch refers to the front crown of the hat that gives its distinctive “V” shape. What workmanship! Some people dislike having their pinch reinforce because they like to reshape their hat shape but for me, I prefer to have my pinch reinforced so it doesn’t goes out of shape. Furthermore, it is my first time seeing a reinforced pinch.

Another tag was attached to the back of the hat and it stated that the hat was made from 100% Ecuadorian straw. Sweet, sweet luck.

One of the owners of the stall was a genial, old man, probably in his late 60s or early 70s. He stood near me smiling as I examined all the hats. With a smile, I approached him and struck a conversation:

Me: “Are these hats really made from Ecuadorian straw?”

Genial, Old Man: “Yes, it is. The straw comes from Ecuador and the hat is shaped in Australia. 100% of the material are from Ecuadorian straw.”

Me: “Wow, I’ve heard that Panama Hats made from Ecuadorian straw are fantastic hats and can last for a long time.”

GOM: “Yes, just a bit of cleaning and proper storage, you have a hat that last you for decades.”

Me: (Admiring the hats) “They’re really beautiful hats, a piece of workmanship.”

GOM: “Hahaha, yes they are.”

I was still staring wistfully at the hats and contemplating whether to buy a hat. Coincidentally, I was wearing my favourite seagrass straw hat (made in China) when making the decision.

Me: “So how much for a hat?”

GOM: (Without missing a beat) $120 for one.

Me: “Wow” (This was said more in shock than in awe).

I was torn now. To spend $120 on a hat and risk the scorn of my parents who will chastise me for unnecessary spending or to spend $120 and know in my knowledge that I made a wise “investment”?

To spend or not to spend.

Finally, I made the painful decision not to buy the hat, so I asked the Genial, Old Man if I could take a picture as a memento and he just smiled and waved his hand in agreement. 

If I was still working and it was my own money, I would have brought it at a drop of my hat.

Since I was at the last end of Glebe Point Road, I walked back to my original starting point and along the way, saw this store selling nothing but hats. Deciding to try my luck to find a proper straw hat, I went in and started searching for one, until I saw this hat:





 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

100% Wool. It’s a bit small for my head but since its wool it can be stretched slightly. I like the headband around the crown of the hat, it has a white outline with a thin red line in the middle. Better still is the inside of the head. It has a satin material and is in tartan patterns. Very, very comfortable when I wear it, although it does has the tendency to slowly slip towards the back of my head. It is my new favourite fedora and I have been wearing it almost everywhere.

By now, I was hungry so I stopped by to buy some snack called churros. It’s a Spanish snack that is consisted of fried dough and sprinkled with sugar. It looks similar to a Singaporean/Malaysian fried pastry called goreng pisang which consist of banana covered in flour and fried in oil.

But the taste of churros is completely different from goreng pisang. When I took my first bite, I went into sugar heaven. I have a very sweet tooth and so finding this snack was like finding an elixir. It helped that the woman sprinkled a generous amount of sugar before passing the churros to me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The stall was selling 5 churro sticks for $3. I ate four before I stopped myself to take a picture of the last one. It was that good.

By now, the Street Fair was winding down and some stalls were packing up. I decided to head back home when I saw this stall that was manned by three Asian people, offering body art, specifically, tattoos.

I’ve always wanted a tattoo, not because it look cool (well, that would be one reason) but because since young, I’ve always like to draw on my body, be it using pen, pencil, colour pencil or crayon. I still have the habit of writing down notes on my palms even though I have a notepad on me. 

There was a wide poster on the stall’s table displaying the tattoo designs and the price of the tattoos. While taking a look at all the designs, I struck up a conversation with one of the stall people. It went something like this:

Me: “So, how big is a tattoo design?”

Stall Guy 1: (Pointing to a tattoo design) “The size of the tattoo is written beside it.”

True enough, there was a “(S)” beside the design he pointed out, denoting the tattoo as a small tattoo. But then it still didn’t help me to gauge the size of the design.

Me: “So, how big is a small tattoo?”

Stall Guy 1: (Separating his index finger and thumb by a few centimetres) “About this big”

Talk about double entendres.

Me: “OK… I’m thinking of getting this Chinese character as a tattoo.”

Stall Guy 1: “Yeah, that is very nice. I’ll recommend you getting it.”

Me: “Really?”

Stall Guy 1: “Yeah, I got one myself not too long ago.”

Me: “You know, if you combine that Chinese character with another one, you get the word ‘ninja’ ”

Stall Guy 1: “Really? I didn’t know that.”

Me: “Yeah man, just imagine adding another Chinese character, that’ll be so cool.”

Stall Guy 1: “So you want get another tattoo? But with the second character?”

Me: “Nah… I’m just saying, you know. I think I’ll just get that first character.”

Stall Guy 1: “Hahaha, ok, just go up to that guy over there and tell him what tattoo you want.”

This is just a gist of the conversation we had. Anyway, I went up to Stall Guy 2 and told him the tattoo design I wanted. He went through a small box and pulled out a prefabricated card that had the design cut out of it.

The Stall Girl, who was doing most of the tattooing was busy at that moment, so I munched on my churros and waited for my turn. When she finished tattooing the previous customer, I went up to her, gave her my tattoo design and sat down to wait for her to prepare the equipment.

She was very cute.

Stall Girl asked me where I wanted my tattoo so I pointed at my left wrist. Laying my wrist across the table, Stall Girl pressed the card against my hand, shifting it around to make sure that she had enough skin to tattoo on. Just before she picked up the equipment, she paused and looked at me before looking back at the card. Meanwhile, Stall Guy 1 came up and leaned across the table, watching the whole procedure.

She did the same procedure a few more times, giving both the card and me quick glances before I finally caught on with her message.

Me: “I’ll like the tattoo facing downwards” (Meaning the position of the tattoo to face towards my hand).

Stall Guy 1: “Hahaha, so you want to show people that you have patience?”

Stall Girl and I laughed at his joke. Stall Girl readjusted the card, swabbed my skin with alcohol, picked up the equipment and started tattooing my wrist.

End result:

 

 

 

 

 

 

This is not a real tattoo. It is just an airbrush tattoo, meaning that it was air painted onto my wrist. It looks very real and can last for up to a week. 

Mine lasted six days, due to me working out and the paintball event (which induced sweating, causing the tattoo to fade).

But it felt awesome to have walk around spotting one on my wrist. When I met up with H and his female friend for dinner at Chinatown afterwards, he grabbed hold of my wrist and thought it was real, until I told him it was just an airbrushed tattoo.

For the first two days, I was fascinated with my tattoo and kept wondering how an airbrushed tattoo could look so real and cashiers would always give me a second look whenever I paid up or took my stuff from them.

By the third day, I was bored with it.

By the fourth day, I was so used to having a tattoo and didn’t even think about it. The only time I was reminded of the tattoo was when I was handling anything with my left hand.

By the fifth day, parts of my skin started show through.

By the sixth day, due to the paintball event, my sweat and the chafing of the overalls against my wrist caused half the tattoo to disappear.

By the seventh day, most of the tattoo was gone.

Now, I kind of miss having the tattoo on my wrist. I plan to get a real one on my wrist, not the exact same design but something like it.

That Sunday was very eventful: an afternoon stroll in the street fair followed by dinner with H and his female friend. I enjoyed the afternoon at Glebe Street Fair and would definitely go back to next year’s Glebe Street Fair. Meanwhile, I can entertain myself at Glebe Markets that is held every Saturday.

Now for one of the most abused, recycled slogans:

Contribution to performer: $3

Churros: $3

Wool Fedora: $39

Tattoo: $7

Dinner with H and female friend: $10

A very enjoyable Sunday: PRICELESS

 

On another side note, I found a British shop selling British sweets, chocolates, foodstuffs and toys. Should bring my younger sister there since she loves almost everything British.

 

Song of the day:

 

 

Another song from Tegan and Sarah. I can just watch Tegan’s facial expression all day long. So, damn hypnotizing.

 

Return to Blue Mountains

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I’m going to Blue Mountains in a few hours. Blog and post will resume once I get back on Friday.

For now, find something to entertain yourself, okay?

Edit: The trip has been extended for another day, so I will be back in Sydney on Saturday morning.

Application Rejected

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I applied to Honi Soit, USyd’s student newspaper as a general reporter more than two weeks ago.

I did not get any replies during the two weeks plus period because of the exams and study vacation. So I waited, studied, sat for my exams and waited.

Since I haven’t checked my Gmail account for more than a week, I logged on today to clear my inbox. In the process, I saw a reply from Honi Soit. I didn’t feel excited or nervous, just a sense of relief that I got a reply from them.

It started off with the usual thing: “Thank you for your application to be a reporter for Honi Soit” and it went on to describe the overwhelming number of talented applications it received. Then I saw the word “unfortunately…”

By now, I was a veteran of rejection letters and emails. So I knew what would come after that unfortunate word.

I got rejected.

I skimmed the rest of the email and in the last paragraph, the editors invited me to flood Honi Soit with contributions of all kinds as they are really big fans of my work.

I think they said that to all the other rejected applicants too.

If it is any consolation, the editors like my post on accepting Facebook friend requests.

 

 

There’s a good and bad thing of getting my application rejected.

The bad thing: I was looking forward to explore more of USyd academia and student body through Honi Soit and getting experience of being a reporter, writing under deadlines, working with editors and reporters and probably interview some really interesting people. All in all, it would be a fun and interesting job.

The good thing: I have a friend who studied journalism and he told me that to write under deadlines is no bloody joke. I can write and work well under deadlines, but I know what he means. To have a writer’s block at the wrong time can lead to disastrous writing. As for my writing style, I prefer to write at a leisurely pace, letting my imagination flow and rewriting drafts after drafts. If I did that for Honi Soit, it being a weekly paper, the editors will probably be screaming and pulling their hair out in frustration.

So I think next semester I’ll flood the paper with the most random contributions I can come up with.

If I can even come up with anything in the first place.

As for the song of the day, to keep up my fighting spirit, nothing is better than the soundtrack from Jet Li’s Once Upon a Time In China aka Wong Fei Hung trilogy:

I’ve always wondered how over a hundred guys can carry out the same moves with military precision. And why is Wong Fei Hung the only fully dressed guy while the others are all half naked?

[NSFW or NSFS] Paintball Pains.

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Before you start reading this post. I want you make sure that you are alone. This means that if you are at work, make sure your colleagues does not see this. More importantly, make sure your BOSS does not see this at all.If you are at school, do not let any student or teacher see this. If you are at home, close your bedroom door or bring your laptop to some secluded place. I’m serious.

 

 

I went for a paintball game with Sean and his friends on Saturday.

Sean, who was my army buddy, organized this event a month earlier and invited me along. Sean invited another army buddy along who, to use the Hokkien term, “pang seh” us because he couldn’t make it and as usual, he did not give us any reason or excuse why he couldn’t make it. 

I think he’s probably doing something really important. Something that starts with the letter “S”.

And that would be…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Surfing.

Why, you thought it was something else? Get your mind out of the gutter, you ass.

Anyway, Sean sent me an invited through Facebook (I just love that place) and of course I marked myself as  “Attending”:

 

 

 

 

 

It was originally supposed to be a week earlier but majority of the people couldn’t make it so it was pushed back to 21 Nov. Fine by me cause I had exams during that week too.

Since Heartbreak Ridge was located about an hour drive west from Sydney, Sean told me that he was going to pick me up at 6:30am.

So the night before, instead of having a good, restful sleep to prepare myself for some ass-shooting and getting shot at, I stayed up watching Korean comedy shows.

The reason for that stupid decision is because my body clock is completely out of whack by now. I usually go to bed at 5am and wake up at 1 in the afternoon. So I wanted to sleep but I couldn’t and proceeded to waste my life in front of the laptop.

By 5am, I was sleepy but decided against taking a nap cause I know I would sleep through my alarm and will only wake at 1 or 2 in the afternoon, and so missing the paintball game (and wasting $70).

So I made breakfast, took a cold shower to stay awake, packed my stuff and by 6:15am, went out to meet Sean at the designated bus stop.

Sean came along with his friends, four in the first car and three in the second car. I was the fourth guy in the second car. So after introducing myself to Sean’s friends, one who was called Sean too and another was Jackson, we joined the early morning traffic to Heartbreak Ridge. On the way, we made a short detour to Happy Jacks for some breakfast.

I would like to tell you about the beautiful countryside and parks and blah blah blah but I can’t because I slept on the way to the paintball place. I was quite exhausted by then and I haven’t even started playing paintball.

I was rudely awaken by very, very bright sunlight and the irritating crunch of gravel. We had reached Heartbreak Ridge.

By then the temperature was hovering near 28 degrees Celsius. It was getting hot even though it was only 7:30am.

The four of us changed in the open air car park. Coincidentally, Sean, Jackson and I wore our white Air Force shirt while Sean the Organizer (the army buddy) wore a brown Army shirt with Air Force shorts.

So after giving an impromptu stripshow in the public, we made our way to the “Mess Hall” to sign the waiver form and get our equipment and gear.

The place was packed with people looking forward to a game of paintball. We joined the queue and after about half an hour of waiting, handed in our waiver forms and got our overalls, webbings and ammo.

I only got the overalls. I didn’t get any webbings and ammo because we would had to pay $20 extra and at that moment, I left my wallet in the car and couldn’t be bothered to walk back to the carpark under the hot sun. So I decided to forgo the webbings and ammo.

BIG MISTAKE.

Why? Cause without any spare ammo, every time I ran of ammo, I was stuck in the middle of a battlefield with no chance of reloading my rifle and ended up being a sitting duck. Next time, I’ll get webbings and ammo.

So after the staff made sure everyone got their overalls, webbings and ammo, we were given a short pep talk on how to operate a paintball gun, the rules and regulations of paintball games and other important stuff.

As usual, I wasn’t paying attention. I only paid attention to the paintball gun part.

After the short pep talk, a staff got my group (which consisted of about 15 people and shall be call Group 1) and another group (which consisted of 5 other people and shall be call Group 2) and told us to gather near a tank.

Yep, they have a tank too. Very boring. 2 years in Singapore National Service does that to you.

We collected our face goggles. It was this part where we were divided into teams based on the colour of our face googles. There were two colours: black and green. I was on the green team while Sean the Organizer  aka The Army Buddy was on the black team. Crap, and we both wanted to be on the same team. Oh well, at least I get to shoot his ass.

Hell, in fact everyone in our group wanted to shoot the shit out of Sean the Organizer.

So after donning our goggles, our group (Group 1) poised in front of the tank as a memento.

I’m still waiting for Sean the Organizer to scan and send me the picture. I quite like the photo, especially my stupid, smirking face.

Anyway, we gathered around near the entrance of paintball area. The guy (we shall call him Screaming Referee) and the boy (we shall call him Screaming Boy) who were leading our group checked our goggles and webbings to ensure they were securely fastened.

The reason why they were screaming because of two reasons:

1) To get our attention as we were constantly talking among ourselves.

2) To get their voices heard over hundred other people voices.

So we went into the paintball area, collected our guns, took some potshots at some targets to test our guns. I must say, I love the sound and recoil of the paintball gun. After that, both groups gathered around Screaming Referee and Screaming Boy before heading to the first paintball competition area.

Another thing to point out, because Sean the Organizer, was, well the organizer of our group, he got to take the cool automatic machine gun. So by just holding on to the trigger, he could unleash a hail of bullets constantly. The rest of us got pitiful, semi-automatic rifles. But I digress.

We were given the rules and the duration of the game before heading off to our respective bases. Since our teams were based on the colour of our face goggles, my green team had a mixture of people from Group 1 and 2. We didn’t formulate any strategies so when Screaming Referee blew his whistle, we all ran helter-skelter and hid behind large balloons that served as barricades and protection.

I’ve always heard from other people that getting shot by paintball bullets hurt like hell.

I got shot in the face, twice.

It didn’t hurt since the goggles protected me but I could feel the force of the exploding pellets. But I then realized that to get shot in the chest, arms or legs hurt.

A LOT. A fucking lot.

We played four rounds before taking a 15 minutes break. After that, we continued for another 4 rounds before ending our paintball games for the day.

I know I’m blabbing a lot here, so I just show you the pictures of my wounds.

 

 

 

 

 

 

First casualty. Sore eye. By the end of the first four rounds, my left eye was completely red. The constant scratching of the googles against my eyes and the sweat from my face irritated my left eye. What worse is that I was wearing contacts, so after 8 rounds of paintball games, I was left with a very, very red left eye.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This is the most painful shot I’ve taken. It happened during the 6th round of paintball games. We were in this makeshift cemetery that consisted mostly of tombstone. Sean the Organizer told me that this was one of the harder rounds and he was right. When you’re stuck behind of tombstone with five people shooting at you, sometimes you feel like you are in the game Left 4 Dead, except the people attacking you are not zombies but people with paintball guns shooting the shit out of you.

How I got the bruise on my shoulder was quite epic. My team was winning and the black team only had a few members left, so we were trying to take out the survivors. I was at left end of the field when I saw this guy hiding behind a tombstone at the right end. So trying to act heroic, I rushed towards the other end and hid behind a tombstone. I planned to take the guy by surprise so counting to 3, I jumped out from the tombstone and started firing a hail of bullets

Unfortunately, he saw me jumping from the tombstone and returned fire.

We spent the next 10 seconds raining bullets at each other cowboy style. By some weird luck, neither of us was hit and we continued to dance around and shoot each other.

Then it happened.

I got the first bullet in my shoulder. Because I was standing so close to him, the impact of bullet against me was so strong that I actually staggered backwards.

I felt searing pain.

Then I took another bullet in the chest.

More pain.

Finally I got another in the stomach.

Damn it, will this guy not stop?

Defeated, I raised my gun to indicate I had been shot. Fortunately, the guy saw my signal and stopped shooting at me.

I still have the bruise on my shoulder. FML.

You can see there’s another bruise on my chest. I don’t remember how I got that bruise but all I know that I was always shot in the chest. I don’t know why people like to shoot me in the chest, it’s not like I have some advertising logo like this guy:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I remembered I was standing at my base waiting for someone to be ‘injured’ so I could go back into the game when I took a bullet right in the chest bone. Apparently some asshole thought I would make a nice, easy target. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I don’t remember how I got this bruise. But notice how close it is to my nipple. If that person had aimed a few inches higher and to the right, I’ll probably lose a nipple.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Another bruise on right side. Getting shot in the stomach is one of my favourite past time. I got this during the last round of paintball games. I was hiding behind some oil wells when this guy tried to take a shot at me. We exchange some shots until I got hit in the stomach. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Leg shot. Got this during the cemetery game. When I was running towards a tombstone for cover, I got shot in the leg. It hurts a lot.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mud/paint splattered shoes.

So after the final round of the “free-for-all” game (I didn’t join in, its too fucking painful) where Sean the Organizer was shot a hundred times from five sides, we went back to the mess hall for lunch.

We had to wait for about an hour and half for the pizzas cause they only arrived at 1pm. So majority of our group decided to leave and went to Ashfield for lunch. Sean the Organizer, Sean, Jackson, Weslan and I decided to stay put to get our pizzas. After all, the pizzas were part of the package.

We did not have anything to do so we spent an hour or more entertaining ourselves by picking up gravel and throwing it into empty bottles or boxes and basically just stoning in the heat wave.

Lunch came at 1pm and I was extremely hungry since my last meal was my 5am breakfast. Boxes and boxes of pizzas came and we all got one each. I can’t remember what pizzas I had but mine had a lot of green peppers and veggies.

I was in pizza heaven.

Since quite a few people left before taking their pizzas, we took the leftovers and I got a box of pepperoni pizza. At last, dinner solved! I don’t have to make dinner. After almost seven hours under the hot sun, I don’t think I would have any energy to cook dinner.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hmmm, pepperoni pizza for dinner. Just for me.

 

 

 

 

Finally, the last shot:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You are now looking at my…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

… butt cheek.

That is why I warned you to make sure you are completely alone when you are reading this.

You see that red, angry welt on my butt? Well, there’s a story of how I got that. I said earlier that during the last round of paintball games, I was hiding behind some oil wells and got shot in the stomach. After I got shot, I stood up and raise up my rifle in the air, indicating that I was shot and I was leaving the game.

However, that asshole decided that his itchy finger did not have enough and shot me in the ass when I was walking away. It hurt the shit out of me. I almost wanted to turn around and decorate his family jewels with bruise and blood. That guy was lucky I didn’t do it.

If that bruise was a few inches below, I don’t think I can shit or seat for the next three days.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you. I dropped a lot of subtle hints by using the words ass, shit, and crap.

 

The Hair Situation

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So after avoiding the barber or hairdresser for six months, this is how I looked like now.

I know I look like crap here. I’m still tired from yesterday paintball games and my face is slightly sunburned. Sydney’s furnace temperature of 34 degrees Celsius is making things worse. 

Anyway, here’s the moment of truth:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This is the longest length I’ve kept my hair. I did have long hair before but the length was previously slightly below the ear while it is now touching my shoulders.

I tied up my hair before but I usually tie up the back of my hair because my fringe was not that long enough. So this is the first time tying up my fringe and top part of my hair.

It took me 30 minutes to get it right. Even then, it looks very, very haphazardly done.

My fringe is a lot shorter than the back and sides so I’m planning to get the back and sides shorten to even it out.

When I get back to Singapore, I know the reactions I am going to get:

Twin Brother: “Wow, that’s a damn cool hairstyle”

Sister: “You look weird.” or “Wow, long hair.” or “Hey you can tie your hair!”

Parents: “Can you please cut your hair? I’ll pay for your haircut.”

Grandma: “It is very untidy, go get it cut.”

Relatives: “AIYOH! Long hair! You look Japanese.”

Friends: “Wow, cool hairstyle.” or “Funky style.” or “How long did you not cut your hair?” or “You look Japanese.”

Army Buddies: “WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS???? WHY KEEP LONG HAIR?? CUT YOUR HAIR!” or “You look Japanese.”

I’m used to these reactions by now. I got them when I kept my hair long previously, but this is the longest my hair has been. So the reactions will probably be multiplied ten-fold.

My answers to all the negative reactions?

Ignore them.

For my parents, I have a tactic. You see, my Dad kept his hair long when he was my age. So I can use that against him. Hehehehe. I can tell him that Singapore does not ban long hair anymore and guys with long hair are quite common nowadays.

It is very ironic that my Dad kept long hair back when the Singapore government banned long hair and was cracking down on youth who had long hair during the 1970s. The reason for this ban and crack down was because the Singapore government associate long hair with drugs, hooliganism and social disorder.

Guys with long hair = Rock and roll, sex, drugs, hooliganism and social disorder = BAD Western influences.

Yes, it is a very draconic and foolish law. In fact, my Dad told me that all bands/performers/singers with long hair had to cut their hair short before coming to Singapore to perform. Of course, no bands wanted that and most band avoided Singapore. The Bee Gees were the last long-haired band to perform in Singapore.

Not only that, the police would go around catching guys with long hair because it was assumed that these people were drug addicts. These guys would then get a haircut from the police force weather they liked it or not. 

Just imagine, policeman going around catching long-haired guys and giving them haircuts. And this was the period when triads, gangs and the criminal underworld had a very strong presence in Singapore. Instead of catching these guys, the police went around hunting civilians with long hair.

Anyway, sometime during the late 1970s or early 1980s, I can’t remember when, the Singapore government finally lifted the ban on long hair and long-haired band/performer/singer could perform in Singapore.

But all guys, including me, still have to endure being bald and keep short hair for two years in our life.

We call that National Service.

Well, so that’s a short snippet of the history of Singaporean guys’ long hair.

Anyway, I am going to get my hair cut when I return to Singapore but only to even out the length. I’m planning to keep my hair long, probably shoulder length. After all, who knows how long I can keep my hair long? Life is short, so we should make the most of it.

As you can see, I have facial hair too. I know, I know, it doesn’t suits me and my facial hair is not thick enough to grow a proper mustache and beard. In fact, my army buddy, H, said I looked like a hobo with my facial hair and long hair.

I actually like that. I’ve always wanted to look like a hobo for some apparent reason.

He also said I looked like a Japanese. I get that comments many times and a lot of people always mistake me as a Japanese. How exactly do I look like a Japanese? HOW?

As much as I want to, I can’t shave my facial hair. I am in this competition called “Movember” and in this competition, participants are not allowed to shave or trim their facial hair. It started on 1st November and it is now 23rd November. So basically I have not shaved from the past 23 days. I am looking forward to 30th November when this competition ends.

Here’s a snapshot of the competition:

 

 

 

 

I know I am going to lose, so wish me luck and curse my competitors. I hope my competitors loose their facial hair overnight in some freak miracle. Seven more days of facial hair!

I’ve just watched Wedding Crashers and I found it hilarious. It was my first time watching it, well, not exactly first time, I did watched bits and parts of it on HBO but it was my first time watching the full length of the movie.

I must say, Owen Wilson and Vince Vaungh are great in the movie. Their acting and jokes really complement each other.

And I have a new crush on Rachel McAdams. I did watch her movies Mean Girls, The Hot Chick and Red Eye but never really gave a second thought about her. I did find her hot but didn’t really take notice of her until I watched Wedding Crashers. The three previous movies I mentioned, I watched it because of the other actresses/actors. For example, The Hot Chick was a Rob Schneider’s movie and it provided me some entertaining laughs during a boring afternoon. Besides, the pirated DVD was cheap.

Same reason for Mean Girls, I watched it because of Lindsay Lohan and Lacey Chabert and as for Red Eye, I was a fan of Cillian Murphy at that time, after seeing him as Scarecrow on Batman Begins. Yet during these movies, I’ve never took notice of Rachel McAdams until now.

For the record, I have not seen The Notebook.

I like this song that was played at the end of the movie:

 

That is going into my iPod, if I can get my iPod fixed.