I've never bowled so badly and laughed so much in my entire life - so far that is.
For all its worth, check out the symmetrical separation of the dashes and the scores. How "awesome" is that?!!
The humiliation began when I was asked by Daryl to join himself and 2 other S4s for bowling at Serangoon Gardens Country Club last week.
The laughter began with the antics by the clown of a certain Zong Ren.
I believe he was looking at the video I shot of his bowling lessons. It's below and I don't apologise that it is not upright. View it at your own risk.
I spotted this on the Biennacle tour with my colleagues yesterday! More foreign talents have chosen to drop by our little red dot on the map - this time from beyond our solar system!
Yes! My favourite host on Animal Planet - the most animated Jeff Corwin!
Apart from being extremely humourous, I like the fact that Ellen promotes various causes on her show.
This episode on Africa's wild animals really struck a chord in my heart. Being an animal lover and having been to Africa myself, Corwin's appearance on the set was truly a treat.
I've tried to transcribe the very funny dialogue that goes with the pictures here.
Ellen : Oh, that's a baby lion! How old is it?
Corwin : She is 2 months old.
E : Is she wild?
C : No, she is being hand-reared for education outreach.
E : (cub makes a low but sharp growl) She doesn't sound contented.
C : No, that is a actually happy sound.
C : Unfortunately people tend to see lions as a steady population.
It is estimated that the lion poplation today is as low as 30,000.
In Africa there are 2 pinnacle predators. There's the lion, king of the beast and there human beings. And both of these life forms are competing for the same resource.
PEEK
A BOO!
E : Oh, that is so beautiful! (reaches forward to pat the cub...)
I think the person who drafted the letter meant "meals". It must be some power-packed training camp. Perhaps I may consider drafting my will with their resident lawyer for only $5!
While trawling the net, I came across this hilarious email vacation message by Chade Meng, the first Singaporean Google employee. My work starts again in 15 minutes which really sucks on a Sunday morning. Sigh. Meanwhile, enjoy.
I’m on leave until 8/15/2008. If you can’t reach me, please don’t think I’m dead, especially if you’re from payroll (if you’re not from payroll, I don’t really care what you think. Except you, boss).
During my leave, I will archive most of my incoming emails without reading them. Why?
Because being on leave, I’m likely to be frolicking on a beach or something, and reading emails is incompatible with frolicking.
If your request is important, please email me again after 8/15/2008.
If your request is not important, please send it to /dev/null, it will be taken care of in the most appropriate way, I promise.
In case of an absolute emergency that requires my immediate attention, my teammates know how to contact me. Bribe them.
Tell them they look beautiful. Say they look almost as attractive as Meng.
Examples of “absolute emergency”: - You are the President of the United States. - You are Celine Dion. - You urgently want to give me a billion bucks. - Evil forces intent to destroy the world today (Note: not AFTER my vacation, but today) and you think I’m the only one who can save the world. - You discovered that I’m The One, but so did the Agents, and you have only 24 hours to find me to give me the “blue pill/red pill” speech. - All of the above.
During my time away, I will refrain from becoming evil.
But if I do become evil, I promise I will grow a goatee and rub my hands in a sinister way when I speak.
And if I capture a superhero sent to stop me, I will painstakingly explain my evil plans in detail to him/her before handing him/her to my snickering, incompetent goons.
Saint2 : This article on The Sunday Times is rather funny. No swimming trunks or bare chests in the stadium, please By Tay Yek Keak
'One must come clothed to the stadium, even on hot days. Arriving only in swimming trunks or bare-chested is not appropriate.'
I didn't make this up.
It is kind of official in an unofficial making-pearls-out-of-c**p way.
According to a report, Austria's etiquette guru, a guy named Thomas Schaefer-Elmayer, has laid down 10 rules for spectators about how to behave during Euro 2008.
He is the director of a prestigious dance school which prepares debutantes for the traditional Viennese Opera Ball.
That sounds snootier than Zouk on Aircrew Night, so he must be an expert who knows what he is saying, like Simon Cowell or the fussy runway coach in America's Next Top Model.
Mr Manners must be very concerned about Austria's Next Top Invaders, aka the hordes of uncouth, unwashed football louts converging upon his co-host country.
Clearly he is worried that his beloved Austria might be turned into a big trash can, a huge thrashed place or even worse, a giant, stinking toilet.
He's right, you know.
Statistically, out of every 100 football fans going to Euro 2008, I believe at least 87 of them would not think twice about peeing anywhere while sight-seeing at Urine 2008. Hence, the seriously alarmed Schaefer-Elmayer's wine-before-swine recommendations.
To him and other like-minded citizens, it is a matter of national security and international emergency.
Perhaps up to United Nations humanitarian relief level. Austria, he would surely tell you, is not Australia.
The place is hopping with high culture, not tall kangaroos. It is the birthplace of Mozart, Haydn, Schubert, Klimt, Wittgenstein, Schwarzenegger - people he will proudly extol - except for one particular native son nobody is too crazy about called Hitler.
Schaefer-Elmayer - you know how refined a person is when the name comes with a hyphen, such as Catherine Zeta-Jones or Mary Tan-Lim, my neighbour two doors away from Alice Chan-Wong - also has other pertinent suggestions of courtesy.
At the subway, possibly filled with pent-up French, Italian, Dutch and Romanian manic fanatics from Group C's menacing Group Of Death, the purveyor of elegance proposes sublime order bordering on sweet music.
'One should remain patient and fall in step with the crowd,' he advises. 'Pushing and swearing will lead to nowhere and only spoil the fun,' he enlightens.
I totally agree.
Pushing and swearing will lead to nowhere. Pushing, swearing and a great war chant like 'Italy 10 France 0', however, will lead to somewhere, primarily to the hospital for some and the prison for others.
Now, you must be thinking that I'm sitting here sniggering at these hysterical gems of etiquette ordained by somebody who probably thinks that a hissy fit by a ballerina is barbarism at its worst.
Of course I am.
I'm laughing so hard I'm lying flat on the floor like Cristiano Ronaldo after a Swan Lake dive.
There are more.
The well-meaning Schaefer-Elmayer, as optimistic and idealistic about the goodness of man as Barack Obama, has further priceless instructions.
At the stadium, pressed against and touching buttocks with scary, hostile strangers whom one normally urgently calls 999 for, he advises: 'It's not the done thing to introduce yourself in the stadium. But, at first, one should address other adults formally.'
You know, in the entire history of football I'm pretty sure somebody once did that. Maybe a Polish fan to a German fan.
'Hi, Mr Germany, I'm Mr Poland,' that friendly fellow must have chirped.
Schaefer-Elmayer continues for the betterment of mankind: 'If a fellow fan, overcome by joy, was to spill his favourite drink on you, would urge him to be more careful and then keep my distance.'
Without being aggressive, he adds: 'I would give him a look to dampen his enthusiasm and put an end to all conversation.'
Once again, I could not agree more with the pristine Mr Schaefer-Elmayer.
He's absolutely correct. It is very difficult to converse, I tell you, when your teeth have just been knocked out of your mouth.