To the BATMOBILE

Sunday, April 30, 2006

(an unre)solved mystery!

The mysterious race that dwells within in the deep recesses of the Amazonian Rainforest that is my writing (refer to last thursday's post, which you should immediately go read over and over again, repeatedly re-clicking the refresh button on this page to generate as many "hits" for this website as possible), has finally been discovered via a wrong turn by our illustrious superhero.

The originally deemed-nonexistent tribe of Butlerman Fans has existed all along! After doodling on Microsoft Paint (the programme that devalues the Windows Package) for a good half hour as some sort of twisted self torture instead of the pleasure I ought to be getting from deviating away from E Math study, I decided to check my e-mail.

Lo and behold! I had tons of mail from fans of all sorts. Many of them in particular promised that they could enlarge my penis, guaranteed (the proof that was offered to me through images was stunning in a poke-my-eyes-out sort of way. What I can say is that the models obviously enjoyed themselves). My first thought was that it was a mite surreal, with more than a few dozen people (the large majority being women. The odd male was scary) seemingly preoccupied with my genital size. Usually something that is rather private, but I'm touched that so many share my burden. At least I thought they were fans.

Now, considering how for the last 2 entries had concerned fans, rainforests, Maths, and/or (burst) weiners, in particular how I've gone a bit overboard in the lattermost detail (the mere gestation of this thought would drive most women into mass suicide - lemming style). It would not be a bad idea to change the subject matter (you can't fault me for having another of my abrupt topic changes this time) - I have decided to reveal the latest 2 songs that have been stuck in my head for the past few days.

Coldplay - The Hardest Part

Note that this is in video because my sister did tell me specifically to go watch the video - with obvious reasons. One of the more "robust" Coldplay songs of late (always felt that Coldplay songs have a spine-chilling feel about them - something to listen to when you're contemplating the mysteries of life e.g. my eternal bachelor status) which reminds me a tad of REM really. Not to say I'm any expert in this (got to grade 5 for piano and subsequently failed the requirement for grade 6...)

Gnarls Barkley - Crazy

The one song to rule them all. Need not say more. (Health warnings : May induce addiction)

TO THE BATMOBILE

posted by butler at 9:31 pm
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Thursday, April 27, 2006

gastronomical delights

I never knew cheese could evaporate... Not till my mother decided to serve up a hotdog with a slice of Cheesedale which obviously overstayed what it was due in the microwave by several weeks. One can't complain though, it was a welcome intervention from one of my million A Math practice papers... Such was the incohorent state of consciousness I was in that I mindlessly devoured the majority of it (badly burst weiner right down to the extremely out of place chutney "sauce" - us superheroes develop strange taste...) only pausing to notice the melted cheese, having lost all semblance of viscousity and thus dripping onto my right boxer leg (sounds weird but I believe that is the proper term. Thigh, anyone?).

What was most disturbing about my mid-morning meal was that while Cheesedale cheese (and all forms of cheese for that I know) usually hardens within the next five minutes of being heated, what I consumed seemed to have taken on the properties of something more... Extra-terrestial?

*Typing becomes irregular as green tentacles start growing from the tips of his fingers*

TO THE BATMOB...

"Hold on!" Devouted fans may cry out in dissatisfaction, having felt cheated of a proper development into the topic of Butlerman's choice.

As no such entity actually exists...

TO THE BATMOBI...

"But what if one actually does?" The thought bothers to surface in my mind.
Stupid thought.

I have 3 clear paths to take into the crazed wilderness that is my writing.
1) I could write about food.
2) I could write about my lack of literary ability and attempt to correct it to make that "devout fan" character exist.
3) I could finish of the remaining LE of BATMOBILE and go watch Lost.

Like any headstrong superhero, I carelessly toss away the most sensible option (number 3) and decide to go crashing through the remaining two paths aimlessly and run myself into a few trees (literary representations of Writer's Block. How deep) and get exotic birdshit on/in my head (representative of my writing. I could not think of anything deeper - thus falling back on what I watched, reminiscent of my traumatic childhood experience of watching George of the Jungle).

Talking about melted cheese, unrecognisably exploded sausages, and/or exotic birdshit (I'm not too sure about you, but it sure puts me in the mood for more food...), I found myself in Serene Centre's MacDonalds sometime this evening, having felt slightly peckish after A Maths tuition (whereever A Math is concerned, my rate of digestion quadruples) and greatly desiring to purchase at the very least, a McChicken. Oh sodium galore.

Unfortunately as I vigorously opened my mouth to order (hard to explain, but vigorous nonetheless), a glance into my wallet to dish out the money needed to purchase such a tantalizing snack revealed that I could only afford to spare one dollar. The words "One grossly salty, oily and fat-filled, yet oh-so-tasty McChicken" caught in my throat, and all I could manage was to avoid wheezing like a deflated balloon and made my way out of the queue muttering a lame excuse that I was late for... something. My ACS badge promptly turned black, shrivelled and vapourised, having found my being unworthy of something representing an obscenely rich family of schools.

Unfortunate. Even more unfortunate is the fact my Geography remains half untouched with my exam but 12 hours away. Screw that devout fan I say. Superheroes have no time for fanclubs (I may live to regret my decision - but so will I when I get back my results at this rate).

TO THE BATMOBILE

posted by butler at 2:38 pm
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Sunday, April 16, 2006

batman (butlerman) forever...

(Editor's note: It has taken me yet another half a century to get myself down to writing this entry... Nothing new really, considering how its taking me five times as long to get myself down to studying for the upcoming Mid-Year examinations... I live life on the edge!)

The 12th of April was not a good day, for obvious reasons (to those who do not realise the significance of this date, I shall type out two words with fire in my veins and blood in my eyes "Rugby finals". Yes I meant the two of you...). I hesitate to delve even surface deep into the topic, for even with the willpower of a God and the self control of the Buddha, I struggle to restrain myself from polluting my beloved online journal with words of anger against the Singapore Rugby Union, and what they have taken away from Butlerman and his minions (I meant teammates. Slip of the tongue?).

Fast forward till today, where many other things have happened in between now and then, the utter disastrous Chinese Oral (I always claimed that Chinese women have beautiful lips! Editors note: Forgive the explicit content. Ignore, if you please...) Examinations inclusive. Most eventful of all would be my near death at the hands of half a dozen motorists along Orchard Road, which happened naught but a few hours ago (my bladder still leaks with ill-controlled fear).

As I was making my way through the maddening systems of pedestrian crossings (in desperate bid to get myself from the back of Wheelock Place to the front of Tangs) after sending a dear friend off, I dropped a coin. Note however, it was not just any ordinary coin - it was a one dollar coin, and it wasn't just anywhere which I dropped it, for I dropped it while crossing the road from Wheelock to Lido. With my wallet being as thin as an Ethiopian drought-plagued farmer on a hunger strike, I did what any sensible human-by-day-superhero-by-night would do. I stooped to pick it up.

As my back creaked out several concertos worth of groaning, my keen Butlerman senses failed to notice that I was the only person left on the road, with the lights just turned green. I was stra nded in the middle of the road, with hundreds of automobiles bearing down on me with the drivers wearing expresisons not unlike Jack Nicholson in Batman.

This was then I proceeded to kick into a backflip before doing a series of somersaults to safety, all the while juggling my decrepit Canterbury school bag. Not really. I had to prostrate myself before a cream-coloured Nissan to beg for my life, before he glanced over me like I was an imperfectly formed piece of shit, and signalled for me to move on.

Without any more unforseen incidents like these, I should be making preparations for immediate cremation after I finish my Mid Years, with my mum quite keen on reliving her cane-wielding masochist days.

To the dear friends who now make their pleasant way to Shanghai, Beijing wherever their OEP may lead them to... Do remember to get me an offering of peace and declaration of my greatness.
TO THE BATMOBILE

posted by butler at 8:38 pm
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Sunday, April 09, 2006

acting schmacting

Oh I confess it now!

All those hours spent in front of the computer, all the way till 2 am nearly everyday spent redoing script after script after script for Centrestage 2006 was fun... Actually - not really. Though forsaking the usual sleek black leather Butlerman outfit for a tight pink tube top and a long flowing kimono (the "long and flowing" got lost along the way - it ended shorter than my boxers... Something that the audience was keen to let me know).

Admittedly, Centrestage was good for my self-confidence, a.k.a ego, as it did allow the opportunity for me to flaunt my acting talents and similarly my confused sexuality. The bright lights! The action! Oh the cameras! Oh the pretty girls in the audience (and damn the bright lights for blinding me...)!

The memories...

Note that I'm only taking time of my busy superhuman schedule to write this because of great amounts of fan-induced pressure and expectations, and have therefore spent the last 2 weeks churning out the above 3 paragraphs. A working ettiquette to die for...

2 weeks on from my bi-annual crossdressing indulgence (I was tempted to say "bi-annual moment of shamelessness" - the emperor of Lies Most Blatant), it is now the eve of the B division rugby finals and I shall stride forth onto the pitch tomorrow, breast puffed full of self-worth and blustor. That is, until the match begins and I am forced to run off to change into a less urine-stained pair of shorts.

Nah... Not really.

Maybe.

Naaaaah.

The pre-match jitters have begun?
TO THE BATMOBILE

posted by butler at 1:03 am
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