To the BATMOBILE

Monday, December 31, 2007

judgement day

The dreaded countdown begins. As I begin this sentence, I now have 117 minutes and a bit of spare change to think of somewhere I can escape to, to celebrate the new year. Familial ties are disregarded in this superhero's sudden thirst for a comfort to be sought elsewhere.

Fittingly, amidst the death throes of my social life, I spent a good portion of my hours conscious today watching Terminator 3, an intellectually reducing movie where Arnold Schwarzenegger ~~pretends to be~~ ~~acts as a~~ shows everyone that he's a robot alongisde someone with a even lesser range of facial expressions than him (Kristanna Loken). I believe I speak for the majority of the male population that having your face melted repeatedly and being pounded on by various forms of weaponry, fictitious or otherwise, is but a small deterent for the opportunity to wrestle with Ms Loken.

Exclaimations and peals of laughter and excitement roll through my window despite my best efforts to drown them out with Dave Grohl's voice. A slight deviation off topic: I've just been replaying Foo Fighter's "The Pretender" and "Tranquilize" and the Abbey Road version of "Sam's Town", both of The Killers fame over the past 24 hours. It's not really the reknown batman theme, but hopskipping about in a 4 metre square radius setting the hearts of women worldwide aflame with my imaginary guitaring skills is something I take delight in. Until I reach a true real life rock god status (which is basically, never), I'm stuck in the reality that tonight is the one of the few nights I'll be sleeping in my own bed for awhile, instead sharing a room with 5 others in boarding school. A self-imposed exile, if you need further explanation.

One hour to go,
TO THE BATMOBILE

posted by butler at 9:32 pm
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Friday, December 28, 2007

stockholm syndrome no.2

I have finally succeeded in making a homemade pancake that well, looks like a pancake.
Another confident step in the direction of becoming the Ultimate Man™! Now, the other 1999 steps.

Does considering oneself's humanity before humankind consitute selfishness if it contributes?
Is madness a state of mind or a comparison to something insubstantial?
How does one sweeten a pancake?
Do I need to reprioritise my life?

Ask a strange question... get a strange answer.

3 posts in just about the same amount of days. Butlerman is back for good (if I got a dollar for everytime I said that...)!
Everybody screams and everybody shouts
"TO THE BATMOBILE"

posted by butler at 2:14 am
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Thursday, December 27, 2007

weird

Following the trend of short and uninteresting updates regarding my personal life, hopefully deviating away from that earlier stint of paddling in the baby-pool of emotional self-pity, I now have a sexy new t-shirt (in a shameless display of sucking up to the present-giver).

New year's resolution nowhere near the new year (well, relatively) -
1) Use the batphone more.
2) Mature beyond using ridiculous terms such as "batphone" to begin calling it what it actually is, an underused bit of technology that has about 6 million minutes of free talk time left in it (yes, my social life is hard to keep down).

Back to the baby-pool.

Strange how one spends a good hour or two in silent contemplation of fast fading hope before a sparked renewal that came with a change of scenery. Praying (it's serious when religious terms get involved) it's no false dawn but the heralding of a new era. Where there's a will, I have a plan.

Cryptic, and mildly inconsequential to any random stranger who stumbles across this.

TO THE BATMOBILE

posted by butler at 3:34 am
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Tuesday, December 25, 2007

stupidity

Some questions shouldn't be asked. Curiosity killed the bat.

TO THE BATMOBILE

posted by butler at 4:08 pm
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Wednesday, December 19, 2007

molesters and the enlightened.

Maybe its a superhero thing or I could be sorely mistaken, but everytime I seem to take the bus I seem to be the victim of unfortunate circumstance. These are the inconsolable confessions of my encounter with a dirty molester of an auntie (a dirty mollusc of an auntie would be a stretch of an imagination, even for one such as mine).

Goes without being said that I now bear a "shoot on sight" policy with anyone above the age of 65 - barring my father who would unfortunately be gaining membership to that special group of people in a year or two... or could already be in it, though I'm going with his age being 63 until I find out (again). Extreme, but when a 70-or-so year old lady was rubbing her elbow over your thigh under the pretense of making a phonecall (call me paranoid but I didn't hear anyone answering on the other end of the line), you too would be plastering yourself against the bus window pane fruitlessly trying to mouth "SOS" through the glass at fellow motorists who were either 1) too oblivious or 2) avoiding eye contact after drawing the conclusion that I was just another bus-taking madman (plenty of those around). My efforts only managed to draw the attention of a gurgling baby in an adjoining Audi who seemed more preoccupied showing me the contents of his nostrils.

There's no one to save the savior.

Edit---The above actually occuring on the 16th such is the remarkable speed of which I blog

As of this moment I face the unbecoming task of something I never thought I'd be forced to do - eat my words. Stuck standing in the nether regions of the bus (as experienced personnel would tell you, the worse area) without a handrail to hold on to and left clinging onto several presents I had only just proudly purchased, I all but crushed the 5 unfortunate souls neighbouring me on their ill-fated 36 journey. Desperately trying to avoid attention by drowning myself in a game of handphone "Midnight Pool" (a pornographic sounding name for an otherwise innocent game involving 2 sticks, a few coloured balls and heavily tattooed mustachoid men), I proceeded to caress a poor auntie with my bum as the bus driver displayed driving and coordination skills most commonly associated with corpses. I believe she got off the next stop. Butlerman sorry. Butlerman try not to do it again.

P.s.---Here's a rheteorical question for you. How hard is it for me to buy 4 presents. It makes me empathise with the Grinch really. My male model calves have been juiced after pacing up and down Orchard Road for three hours. And I only completed half my requirements.

TO THE BATMOBILE

posted by butler at 2:03 am
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Monday, December 03, 2007

from the king of complacency, with much love

One always wishes he could say for certain that there was a brief period in his rather brief existence that he wasn't crazy. This particular superhero empathises.

**Health Warning: Hefty ramblings ensue**

Having recently watched the rather satisfying "The Illusionist" on my comptuer's DVD player while dribbling rice over my keyboard, I'm keen on quoting what the incredibly eccentric-looking character of Edward Norton, Eisenhower, said regarding how time seems to be flexible and how we wish we could slow happier times and fastforward the doldrums of boredom. Problem is, I can't remember it (and at 2.25 am, a time where superhumans should be allowed to tire, I'm not really hard pressed to find out what it was despite the trashy probably-spyware ridden searchbar handily located on my browser window). In fact I seem to recall skipping significant chunks of said movie just to find out if its contains a happy, heart-titillating ending (which, without a care in the world whether you've watched it or not, it does).

What had initially begun as a promising holiday break with proposed columns to write and hell, even the plans for a flipping short story (which I hope to revive someday somehow somewhere) seems to have dissolved into a miasmi of laziness and a series of stumbling blocks. The one bright spark of my holidays (and fittingly, totally unrelated to anything literary) shall not be further elaborated upon due to the incredible sensitivity of the topic (myself holding true to The Third Law of Superhumans ~ Thou shall not air emotional laundry publically).

In fact, the recently passed Sunday, majestically titled "The Great Culinary Experience" was a day set aside for myself to explore my hidden culinary talent by whipping up hot tasty pancakes (the very attribute that defines the Ultimate Man™. According to womens magazines, I swear). It's safe to say that Butlerman, despite being the beloved hero of mankind and enlightened protector of Siglap, wouldn't be recieving the "die die must try" rating made famous by Makansutra anytime soon. Speaking of which, it has always seemed to me that that particular programme has made it seem as if every other stall in Singapore is helmed by the next gastronomical genius to be exalted upon by the Michelin Guide. To further elaborate upon my resounding failure... indugle yourself in a prolonged stare at the following photo, and remember to utter a heartfelt prayer before you sleep tonight that you shall never be on the recieving end of one of my pancake breakfasts.

If I'm allowed to defend myself, I blame the eggs (which have been left in my fridge for months - the Butler family being notorious of rather starving to death then actually cook themselves any food), and the fact I can't flip a pancake if my life depended on it (hence the Texas Chainsaw Massacre re-enactment).

If you've managed to read up to thus far (or experienced enough to skip the majority of my written garbage decorated with about half a million brackets), then a hearty congratulations is in due order, and the calm reassurance that you would not have to struggle through more of my rubbish for at least a month or so. Until then...

Keeping you safe by keeping himself locked up,
Butlerman and
TO THE BATMOBILE

posted by butler at 2:16 am
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