To the BATMOBILE

Sunday, July 30, 2006

b is for...

Celebrating (cue Tchaichovsky's 1812 Overture o.p. 49) my 102nd post! A milestone achievement, albeit 2 posts late but it's better late then never.

I feel strong, I feel fit, I feel inspired! For many reasons, none of which actually ties in with my 102nd post anniversary, but rather for the fact that I have finally watched V for Vendetta. What a hero! What a movie! And with the final scene of the British Parliament going up in an almighty explosion still flashing before my eyes, I can do nothing to prevent myself from leaping to my feet, and proclaiming "V, le moi saviouer" (which in French, means bugger all, but I meant to say "V, you are my hero"). There's only so much separating me from putting on a mask, and bombing our own Parliament House, that being the fact I can't get hold of any explosives.

(As my adrenaline dies down after 24 hours of delusions of grandeur and seeing myself quoting Shakespeare and melting the hearts of 16 year old males with tendencies to believe that they are the next Batman, I beg you to ignore all of the above regarding anarchy against the State of Singapore, particularly if you are in the employ of the PAP. Of which it is then questionable to why you're reading my blog - you bored little man you)

I was just kidding of course - regarding the adrenaline dying down. This post shall forever be virtually pumped full of ill-disguised allusions to one of my most favouritest movie of them all (most inspiring of all film's I've watched in fact. No prizes for guessing what costume I would be wearing come Halloween should I see the need to masquerade in front of aunties demanding sweets and getting smacked).

As ~~they~~ I ~~always~~ now say, if V is for Vendetta, B is for Better (the most original thing to appear in this post - inexplicably the lamest. V, forgive me...)

"Beneath this mask there is more than flesh. Beneath this mask there is an idea, Mr. Creedy, and ideas are bulletproof" - V
TO THE BATMOBILE

posted by butler at 11:02 pm
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Saturday, July 22, 2006

watch this space

This post has been a long time coming, with elaborate mindmaps, detailed plans and drafts drawn out that would make Stephen Hawking confused (if he managed to get past the barrier that is my handwriting). And so it is with no great surprise that final product has once again failed to meet my supremely-high expectations (the day I do, I shall die happy, in one final stand against the forces of bad-writing, complete with a piece by the London Oratory Group rising to a full-throated let's-give-those-orcs-a-whooping-Aragorn! crescendo, before dying down the thunderous crowd appreciation and hopefully having lingerie and roses thrown at my feet where all who know me would rise to their feet and proclaim out loud with tears in their eyes "Ladies and Gentlemen, that is my Butlerman!").

And so the actual post begins - with no proper subject matter in mind, and no witty joke thought up beforehand to weave my post about, with no intention other than to scavenge that one reader before he/she/it (I have not yet determined the gender) thinks my blog is defunct.

Butlerman has recently joined an exclusive group of people in this lovely microwave of a country (spandex-melting temperatures as of late. I can vouch for that), being one of the few people who've turned down an early place in RJC. White pants never really appealed to me anyway, not with all the stains that would have resulted from my - besides it wouldn't have matched the car. (Editors note: This doesn't truly reflect the reality of the situation, as I actually did apply for RJ in the first place, unlike the Super-Alpha-Male of my captain who was virtually being courted by every institution with their sights on the A Division Trophy)

The reasons are complicated, I can assure you all (and as a ineffectual method of deflecting all accusations of travesty and being labelled "Judas" by the ACS old boys, provided they stumble across this), but unless I manage to flunk all of my subjects (which now that I've said it, is the probable outcome) I shall be doomed to wear the ugliest tie on earth.

All in all, a much better fate than the one awaiting me at RJC anyway. I was already treated to a preview where on the day of my interview, as my close friend and I were busy navigating the labyrinth-like corridors of Hell itself (in the eyes of an ACS boy anyway), all the while we were being subjected to the scrutiny of various half-wits in pristine white buttock-clenching tights walking slowly around us, deliberating as if he was a sheikh deciding whether to purchase a prize mule, occasionally pausing in puzzlement when we opened our mouths and made use of our power of speech, as if it was some freak occurrence that a non-Rafflesian was capable of such intellect.

As this post draws to a close, I shall enlighten all still breathing with a re-discovered favourite of mine...

For the Longest Time - Billy Joel

Oh, oh, oh
For the longest time
Oh, oh, oh
For the longest time
If you said goodbye to me tonight
There would still be music left to write
What else could I do
I'm so inspired by you
That hasn't happened for the longest time

Once I thought my innocence was gone
Now I know that happiness goes on
That's where you found me
When you put your arms around me
I haven't been there for the longest time

Oh, oh, oh
For the longest time
Oh, oh, oh
For the longest
I'm that voice you're hearing in the hall
And the greatest miracle of all
Is how I need you
And how you needed me too
That hasn't happened for the longest time

Maybe this won't last very long
But you feel so right
And I could be wrong
Maybe I've been hoping too hard
But I've gone this far
And it's more than I hoped for

Who knows how much further we'll go on
Maybe I'll be sorry when you're gone
I'll take my chances
I forgot how nice romance is
I haven't been there for the longest time

I had second thoughts at the start
I said to myself
Hold on to your heart
Now I know the woman that you are
You're wonderful so far
And it's more than I hoped for

I don't care what consequence it brings
I have been a fool for lesser things
I want you so bad
I think you ought to know that
I intend to hold you for the longest time

TO THE BATMOBILE

posted by butler at 12:54 am
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Sunday, July 09, 2006

a day to be made

It's been a traumatic day, to say the least. So traumatic I've decided to put the foot down, damn those drafts that have kept my blogging at bay for about 2 weeks (I can't remember when's the last time I've blogged anyway), and go all out in a mass blogging bonanza, all guts and glory, keyboard a-blazing in frenzied typing.

(Editors note: It was about this time Butlerman took a well deserved 2 hours worth of "Pirates of the Carribean" after 60 seconds of no-holds-barred hardcore non-stop blogging. Arghhh matey.) So I'm back again, and I shall endeavour to finish this post before anyone gets the idea I've passed on from this world (I've disappeared for so long it seems like a reasonable hypothesis), and heaven forbid, would stop reading my blog - yes, all two of you.

Today has been an absolute shocker. Right down to it's cursed, bleeding core. While there was some justice in Portugal getting absolutely hammered by Germany in the World Cup, everything else has been downright terrible. To say why, would actually violate a series of guidelines I had set down to govern my writing on this blog to prevent myself from being murdered in a cover-up operation by the Government.

Forcing myself to wake up at 11 in the morning (toeing the line of insanity! I know) with my fingers smelling of garlic after an evening of panfrying my fish in cummin seed (the cummin seed never really aroused me - what wit), basil, parsely, onions, garlic and lemon juice (such was the ample amount of herbs and spices available in Singapore. My attempts at replicating Jamie Oliver has once again sunk to an all-time low... In hindsight, the dish wasn't that bad though I'll stick to red meat), I was hoping that I would have the opportunity to venture forth into town with the intention of catching a movie, preferrably "Superman Returns" (I was quite willing to give it a shot despite a shaming review from my friend - he was quite willing to shoot it. another display of classy humour, people you are witnessing a genius at work).

The world conveniently managed to forget me, well, all but one female representative from some strange company willing to offer students like me a job in their Human Resource Department (which brings to mind an underground lair of similarly aged people being chained to treadmills to power the building's electricity) with ample time set aside for study. This of course, coming after I decided to take a short cut through a dodgy-looking alleyway in town (whilst shopping for my sister's birthday present - a delicate and incredibly frustrating task) where it seemed quite likely a wild man with dreadlocks would jump out and drag me off wriggling into the darkness, but instead got molested by a surveyor asking me if I would like a job.

Admittedly, I was being a bit of a numbed nut by relaying my handphone number to him (or did I? I can't seem to vividly recall doing that, which of course would be extremely disturbing if they did source out my number).

A desperate plea to the ladies and gentlemen who have insofar managed to reach this little segment at the bottom of a forgettable post: Go ahead, make my day (thus explaining the choice of my blog title, so poorly constructed in terms of grammatical structure)...

TO THE BATMOBILE

posted by butler at 11:36 pm
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Monday, July 03, 2006

3a.m. watch

While the news of England losing to Portugal 3-1 at penalty shootouts may not come as a great shock since everybody but Englishmen themselves believe the English are rubbish at footie (this applies in general to the British and their sports), it's still depressing enough to warrant a blog post. Or. rather, the foremost important and therefore introduction to one.

Now I've really lost reader interest.

Having made up my mind prematurely to not comment yet another time on LTA or Singapore's public transport commuters (keep your cramped little seats you devils!), which would usually leave me bereft of anything to talk about, it's 2.42 in the morning and I've just watched Night Watch, and I've suddenly been struck by a strange (and very probably untrue) notion that someone out there would give a couple of hamster droppings and a piece of string to know what my views of it are.

If the New Paper is anything to go by (it usually isn't, unless you want to read ads on end about handphones or cyber sex) Night Watch to my memory had recieved good reviews. And so it was with great anticipation that I rushed to Video EZ to borrow it to watch in my early morning eyebaggy bloodshot-inducing pleasure. That and the fact it was Russian made me believe that there would be tall slim darkhaired nymphomaniac beauties named Ivona and Tartala making out midfilm.

It turned out to be something about Igor Ytchevialonkskolopic (it's all a bit hazy now - the movie finished all of twenty minutes ago) using torchlights to beat up vampires. The sight of the evil boss of the Dark Side (strangely named Day Watch - things don't work the same way in Russia apparently) pulls his spine, conveniently metal, out to use as a sword, forced me to take immediate eye-cleansing action in the form of illicit magazines (just joking. Seriously).

Overall I was rather disappointed as there was no development between his vampire neighbour and the protaganist, and the dismal lack of special effects and spectacular fight scenes between superpowered characters (stuff which gets the blood pumping). To top it off, Ivona and Tartala never made an appearance. I'll just have to make do with imaginative dreams as I drift gently to sleep.

TO THE BATMOBILE

posted by butler at 1:56 am
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