Young In Death

Steve's paternal grandfather passed away two days ago. And when a man of that stature (and money) passes away, you can be sure that even the sending off is going to be nothing else but in absolute grandeur.

Upon hearing the news, Star texted me: "I am so going to wear my black lace sheath Dolce & Gabbana dress for the funeral! Not going to look like a lost middle class nymph amongst a congregation of filthy rich fucks. And before you ask me, YES I HAVE SENT MY DEEPEST CONDOLENCES TO STAVE BEFORE TEXTING YOU!"

I actually snorted in amusement.

The very next day, the three of us (Star in her black lace sheath Dolce & Gabbana dress, Melanie in a long black dress from BCBG and me in an old H&M ensemble) met Steve at his house. The expansive lawn and driveway was covered with a white tent; they made their own church right in front of their doorstep.

You see what I mean?

"Yo look like a young trophy wife on an Italian mafia godfather, you look like a glommed Morticia Addams and you look like one of those brooding indie stars," Steve chuckled when he saw us.

"And you look like shit," Star said, adjusting her messy bun.

Steve laughed.

"You're not supposed to be laughing. Your grandfather has not even been buried yet," Melanie said.

"On Mel he was 92 years old. He has lived," Steve rolled his eyes.

"Is that your mother? She looks like Joan Collins in Dynasty," I marvelled from where I was standing. She was dressed in a pantsuit (how chic) with a slim belt clinching her small waist, black oversized shades and a huge black satin sun hat.

"Head to toe in Dior. She couldn't decide whether she wants to be appropriately dressed for a funeral or a charity horse running derby. Mum!" Steve called out to her.

"Hello you familiar young faces. So good to see young faces in the sea of sadness, old age and death," Mrs Lee smiled.

"Mum..." Steve injected.

"Oh my father in law hated me. He thought that I wanted to marry Steve's father out of money. Which is true. But it was love for the most part of it. Anyways, please help yourselves to the food. And if you guys feel bored, just go up to my room or Steve's and bunk in there until the entire funeral thing ends. I've got to say hello to a few other people I don't even care about. And how do I look?" Mrs Lee said, hands on her waist.

"You look fabulous," Star immediately said, unable to contain her increasing awe.

Just then Steve's father came out and shook our hands, instantly recognizing us as his son's best friends.

"I believe this is the first time we've met yes?" Me Lee said in a crisp Irish accent, even after all these years, born and bred in Singapore. He looked rather sad but still very enigmatic.

The three of us just nodded. We are in front of Mr Harrison Stanford Lee, the tycoon.

"Gorgeous aren't they? I'm glad Steve made friends with them because honestly, I find it hard to look beyond skin deep," Mrs Lee cackled.

"I'm kidding," she quickly said.

"See you guys later! Nice meeting you all, make yourselves at home. And Steve remind me to pass you the lawyer's letter later. Your late grandfather had willed some of his assets to you," Steve father said, his voice about to break.

"How much do you think it is?" Melanie whispered to my ears.

Seriously?

25 Other Ways To Say I, I Love You Like...

Songwriting have reached new heights of banality to the point where a certain mildly talented Ms Gomez sings repeatedly in a song I, I love you like a love song baby. And then again, and again. Here are 25 other ways of saying I Love You to your significant other.

Or to yourself in the mirror every morning. I know some of you are into that kinda shit, don't lie to me.

1) I, I love you like Lindsay loves cocaine.

2) I, I love you like a student loves an empty Starbucks table.

3) I, I love you like gahmen loved their ERP gantries.

4) I, I love you like a PRC loves spitting.

5) I, I love you like a Minahrep loves Von Dutch.

6) I, I love you like Filipinos love their Jolibee.

7) I, I love you like a bottom loves his KY.

8) I, I love you like Angelina loves orphans.

9) I, I love you like a civil servant loves prostitutes.

10) I, I love you like LKY loves being alive.

11) I, I love you like the Olsen Twins love saying "prune".

12) I, I love you like a Singapore Girl loves her blue eye shadow.

13) I, I love you how I love to fart.

14) I, I love you like a Swiss loves his cheese.

15) I, I love you like Parish Hilton loves getting yeast infections.

16) I, I love you like a 14 year old girl loves his boy to have "SWAG".

17) I, I love you like Malay girls love boys with a Gilera.

18) I, I love you like a Jamaican loves Bob Marley.

19) I, I love you like Nicole Kidman loves Botox.

20) I, I love you like a fat kid loves cupcakes.

21) I, I love you like an Indian loves alcohol.

22) I, I love you like Tiger Airways love to get delayed.

23) I, I love you like JLo loves to get married.

24) I, I love you like a man loves his blowjobs.

25) I, I love you like Kim Kardashian loves black cocks.

Train Horror Story

There is apparently a perverted old man who boards the train during peak hours and get this...gropes unsuspecting young men while at it. This topic have been circulating like wildfire in my Twitter timeline and Facebook newsfeed. There is even a video captured and posted in Facebook (I don't know whether it has already made it's way to YouTube).

If you have to know, the video was far from shocking or perversely tittilating. In the video the old man simply stood closely to this dude and copped a feel at the groin area. The "victim" didn't even retaliate or fought back. He just let it happened. Now I am completely under the impression that he actually enjoyed it. And no, there wasn't even any moaning or secretions; a complete waste of time if you ask me.

Steve however found the whole saga revolting to say the least.

"That is why I don't take public transportation!" he shook his head when I showed him the video over dinner a couple of days ago.

"You don't take the public train because you are the sole heir of an empire and taking the train is just going to derail you into middle class station, and I don't think you can handle that," Star said, rolling her eyes.

"Excuse me? What is that supposed to mean? I have taken the train before mind you!" Steve replied, defensive.

"Of course you have. But remember how badly you wanted to get out of it, what, fifteen seconds into the journey?" I reminded him about his recent Bucket's List saga.

He looked away, pursing his lips. That is his way of saying, "Yeah, whatever." A total poofter this one.

"I'm not trying to be a total nutcase but if it was me, I would just let the man grope for a while before walking away. I mean, he is old and perverted, that's like a social service on my part, a charity of sorts," Melanie suddenly said.

"Melanie, that man gropes other men, not women. Or trannies for that matter," Star replied.

"Oh yeah, that's right. I totally forgot. Sometimes I still think that I am a man, it's depressing really," Melanie said, flipping her hair.

Steve scrunched up his face and mouthed a silent, "What the fuck?"

"I saw that," Melanie snapped, pinching Steve on his thighs.

"But what is completely baffling to me is that the so called "victim" actually didn't even retaliate. He didn't even move away. Isn't that weird?" I asked.

"Maybe the old man got lucky and actually got to grope an equally perverted man who enjoys being groped in public," Steve griped.

"We live in a sick, sick world," Melanie sighed.

"Speaking of which have you guys seen the video of this couple on a train somewhere, Taiwan I think. The dude was totally petting her in public!" Star exclaimed.

"No..."Steve trailed off, shocked and disgusted at the same time.

"Oh yes! That was a good piece of voyeurism. Show it to Steve!" Melanie excitedly said.

"I don't think I am ready to see any kind of petting whatsoever..." Steve said softly, his voice slightly terrified.

Star already had whipped out her phone before Steve could even excuse himself to the gents.

"Here, look," Star said, pressing the play button.

"That is disgusting. I sure do hope that he doesn't touch any arm bars or railing after touching THAT!" Steve said, looking away.

"Speaking of which there is this video of a man who have dug his nose and touched the metal railing afterwards," Star said.

"Star! Stop!" Steve screamed.

Mighty, Mighty Pen.

I think my passion for writing was born out of a need to document and contain my imagination. I always have this feeling that if I don't write down and document the myriad of thoughts, feelings, fantasy and opinion, my head would literally explode from both immense euphoria and an overflow of information in my brain's nervous system.

As a kid (as far as i could remember), I was one of the few ones who enjoy joining the dotted lines to make an alphabet in literally tens of scrapbooks. I find an immeasurable amount of happiness and satisfaction from being able to draw a perfect A to Z. I think this fascination with perfection is also the reason why my mum says, "You write like a girl."

And from alphabets, it became and grew to words, and then phrases and then sentences and before I knew it, I was writing paragraphs after paragraphs of stories etched from inside my head to paper.

Writing is my escape. Writing was my way to calm myself down from feeling angry or disappointed, a way for me to pass time during boring lessons and lectures, a way to make other people happy and so much more. It has come to a frenetic point that if I see a piece of paper and a pen; a prose, a haiku, a paragraph of something, anything would be written on it.

Some people doodle on paper, some make paper planes, some set it on fire but me? I write.

Ine of the most significant writing episodes etched in my memory was when I was ten years old. I remembered being taunted and bullied by this boy who was two grades above me. he would sneer and call me names during recess and verbally abuse me in front of everyone.

This went on for three months and I was in tears every single day and dreaded to go to the canteen during recess. By this time I was being shoved repeatedly in front of everybody all the time and called upon with multiple gay slurs (some of which I didn't even understand).

So I wrote a letter.

In my letter, with all the vocabulary that a ten year old had and could muster, I wrote about how scared and hurt I felt with the emotional and physical torment (yes I used the word torment, and dramatically too) that I go through on a daily basis and how I wish it would stop.

This letter was written and sent to my Principal. (Eat my shit bitches!)

Naturally what entailed was a slew of events that is of epic proportions. A distraught kid, an equally distraught (and dramatic) mother and a bully; like anything less would happen.

"My son could be depressed in silence and committed suicide! Do you want my son to jump down from the school building straight into the middle of the school assemble for you guys to do anything about it?!" I remembered my mum screaming in the principal's office.

At that point of time my parents were not divorced yet and my father was beside her just quietly (and helplessly) telling her to stop her antics. It was as useless as standing in front of the hurricane and telling it to head in the opposite direction. Not going to happen.

But sketchy dramatic moments aside, the bully was suspended from school for two weeks and was being given the proper disciplinary actions. He was in tears (serve you right motherfucker) when asked to apology to me in front of his parents and mine.

But what I finally understood from that one defining moment is that, true to the overused adage; the pen is really much mightier than the sword. My writing had single handedly helped me get through my biggest fear and that pretty much made me understood the power of words and gave me the strength to face my fears, one word at a time.

So what have you written today?