Drive Home

Don't get us wrong.

We don't mind driving.

But a topic which struck a chord during one of our regular MSG (Men Support Group) dinners was the drive home.

You see, its quite common for the guy in a relationship to drive the girl around. Has nothing to do with us guys not wanting to be seen in the passenger seat of a girly-girl car.

Or that we don't trust your driving.

It's about us wanting you to just relax, sit and enjoy and let us worry about the traffic, parking, fuel and rage associate with driving (this doesn't work with my girl, because I constantly nag her for directions).

But one thing that did bother my support group friends (and something that bothered me before) was our girls refusing us go home early.

Here's what I mean.

Its a weekday, guy picks up girl at her workplace, they go out to dinner, they both have a good time. Around 10pm, he drives out of his way to drop her off. When when he gives her the goodnight kiss - she gives the sad puppy dog pout for leaving her there.

*pout *pout *don't leave me *pout *pout

!!!!?!!?!!!!

So he does the 'right' thing and stay awhile. They talk, watch TV and spend more quality time together. And only when she starts yawning, will it be okay for him to go home.

When its already midnight.

So the guy in the story now needs to drive home, tired and just wanting to get to bed. And its often too tempting to get back home quickly by giving the car a bit more juice than needed.

This happened to me a few times and I was really quite surprised how many of my guy friends go through with this. They were like "ZOMG I go through the exact same thing!!!! Do you get McDonald's drive-thru too?"

We realised that if it was the other way around, in that our girlfriend dropped us home, we'd be wanting them driving home before the sun went down.

We wouldn't want them staying and driving so late because we know there's heaps of tired and crazy drivers then.

Hotness

Its been really hot the past few days.

Last Thursday was a 39C day and the Friday after was a scorching 41.8C!

The firebugs were out too.  

I remember Nathan and Nat saying - 'rather than report where the bush fires are, we're just going to tell you where they're not'.

The city view was all smoggy from the fires

My girlfriend took me out to lunch that hot Friday.  

She's such an angel :)

Of course for her, I wear the best shirt and tie when its lunch-date days.  

That way she thinks I'm actually important where I work.  

The plan was to melt her with my smoldering corporate get-up. 

Unfortunately the plan backfired. 

When I got out of the office to meet her, the circulation-restrictive tie and non-breathing long sleeve cotton shirt was basting me like a turkey in a 300C fan forced electric oven.

She reckons I looked hot alright.

 

I reckon the armpit patches gave it away.

Frozen cokes from BP! Four flavours to choose from. 

Half price of Maccas ones, albeit fake coke

Speaking of hotness

My soon-to-be married friends celebrated their hen's night and buck's night last weekend.  

The buck's night was a non-official event and was very low key because we've already done a week-long Thailand trip.  

But it wasn't really complete because we didn't see a stripper.

And nooooooo way would we let the girls out-do us in the strippers department!

Whats Hot

Me no speak English.

At the Hen's, the girl gaggle giggled their way to man-meat above.  

Apparently he didn't speak much English.  

I don't think that was a problem.

As to what the girls got up to, I've only heard bits and pieces.  

Some details were left out to protect my innocent ears.

Heheehehehe.  If they only knew that us boys headed to Xotica!

Where the girls are scorching hot!

I was giggling like a girl after I briefly spoke to Miss Nude Australia 06-07, aka Paris.  

She called me baby. 

But I bet she calls everyone baby.

Whats Not

I took the opportunity last Saturday to cure my curiosity of the $2 peep shows offered by the adult stores.  

For me $2 buys you a scratchy, a small snack from Maccas, a can of coke, half a pie, eight txt messages.  But a peep show?! How does that work?!  

This I had to see!

I dragged the boys to one of the adult stores in James street.  

Once you get over the overwhelming amount of adult paraphernalia (most of which can impale people, think Burn After Reading), you will find the $2 peep show section near the back under the glowing neon sign.

There were several booths available.  The booths are about half a square metre in area.  Once you close the door, the only light comes from the frosted 20cm x 20cm window about eye level.  The walls are black with a a coin dispenser and tissue dispenser attached.

I think the tissues are for wiping the window of fingerprints? 

When you put $2 in the slot machine it magically turns the frosted window clear, giving you a 20 second preview of the supposed vixen inside.

Supposed is the operative word.

"MY EYES!!! 

OHHH MY EYES!!!!!"  I cried.

We left bitterly disappointed and laughing at the same time.  

A sore case of getting what you pay for.

The Bachelor's Week

Its the joyous event of saying goodbye to a comrade's state of singleness. 

According to the most reliable wikipedia, bachelor parties originate from Sparta, when Spartans would toast the men on the eve of their wedding day.  There's no doubt the tradition of toasting had carried through.  

All the bachelor parties I've been to involve excessive alcohol.  

And strippers :P 

My friends and I have just finished our 'bucks week'

A week-long bachelor celebration in Singapore and Thailand where we

 did nothing but sizzle under the sun, party, eat, then party some more.  

The hotness group

We had helluva time, but damn! I miss my liver!!

We drank so much!   

Jack Daniels, Johnny Walker, Heineken, Singtah's, Absolute and Tequilas. 

We drank so much, Flaming Lamborghinies were literally coming out of my nose. 

Memorable funny line:   "Chivas 18?"  "Really? She looks heaps younger than that!"  

And of course,  its not a bachelor's party if theres no women.  

We saw hot girls, small girls, skinny girls, asian girls, white girls, leggy girls, stumpy girls.  Girls who looked like guys and guys who looked like girls.  

Me and some hot ladyboys.

We even saw a woman smoke two cigarettes down below (that was creepy).

I guess the idea of seeing women is not to displace the bride-to-be or current partners. We just needed to reassure our blokeness from an otherwise testosterone packed posse.

Not being able to tell if they were women or not was frustrating though.  

Only left us more confused than ever.

But in the end of almost all bucks party, for me anyways, there's always this mild feeling of sadness.  

I can't quite pin it.  

Maybe its because such a happy occasion ended?  

Maybe being surrounded by too much testosterone has ill effects. 

Maybe its the depressive side effects of alcohol. 

Or maybe its the realisation that nothings changed and that the buck's singleness didn't really end that night.   

It ended a long long time ago, 

when boy met girl.

Reward System

It was only when I saw it used on her little sister did I become aware of her powers.

Kinda like Louise Lane discovering Clark Kent's powers.

Only that my girlfriend is not Superman, and me not Louise Lane.

What I saw was my girlfriend using a reward system on her little sister.

A reward system is a behavioral tool that can be used to brainwash train kids.

It can be of many forms but what my girlfriend made was a chart which listed all the things her little sister needed to do during the week. Every day of good behaviour gets a tick. Get the whole week done and she gets a reward.

The reward is probably a Bratz doll, because eight year old girls idolise skanky girls nowadays.

Of course behavioral tools are not new.
My sister uses stuff she's learned from the "Super nanny" to tame her toddler.

And it works.

My nephew cries at the thought of being banished to the naughty chair.
(Which is strange because adults would jump at the opportunity to be in the naughty chair).

Anyways, I digress.

What surprised me was my girlfriend was using psychological and behavioral control tools to condition her little sister.

And if this works on a 8 year old girl who beats me in Uno, then I'm finding myself increasingly vulnerable to my girlfriends super powers.

Me - very susceptible to mind control

Hair cut

The barber asked me what cut I wanted.

I kinda just sat there dumbfounded.

Haircut.. umm.... Can I call a friend?

"number two ... at the sides??
and maybe a three on the top? .."'

Hang on.. that's what my brother gets. Ooops.
I think its because he gets the same hair cut all the time that's why I remember that.
Where as I don't.

My effeminate Iraqi barber pouted his wet lips and disagreed.
"No..no no.. that won't do.. thats too short.. number three is like this,"
and he bowed down to show me his crown. "You wan't it to look like this?"

Helll no! I screamed in my head. Don't want my head looking like a monkey's breast.

"I'll esskissor cut the top ohhkaaay.."

"Um.. alright.. sounds good.."

****

As you can see, I don't really fuss about my hair. If it looks nice that would be a plus, but if its not... oh well.. at least I get to live another day.

For some people a change in hairstyle means a change in lifestye. Deep. But haircuts definitely give a fresh new look into life. Thats probably why after a failed relationship most people get their hair re-done. A change in the head crop helps with the healing and change inside I guess.

But we should be having a fresh outlook to life everyday! Don't need break-ups to do that!

hehehee.

I'm actually not that energetically optimistic.
I'm just trying to find an excuse for my weird hair patterns.

I get my hair cut from all over the place. One time its from a barber, one time from a hairstylist, one time from my mom and once in a while (if I'm desperate and I'm starting to harbor nits) my brother cuts my hair. I just go with whatever's convenient (or on special that day). Thus putting me on the other end of the spectrum of some people I know.

But whatever makes people happy right?

I have a box at home with hair products recommended by various people who's cut my hair.

I've got wax, gels, putty, jelly, hairspray, jelly-wax, putty-wax, gel spray, putty-jelly. They have a mat finish or can be oil-slick shinny. The hair hold strength varies from feather touch to rock-solid industrial-cement grade super crunchy hard.

And I've hardly used any of them. Most of them have discoloured already, but I've kept 'em for special occasions. To which I'd use a dab from each pot and make a nice mix of 'special occasion magic gel'. Its a secret recipe (its also a stain and rust remover, lubricant, dental whitener, but is very flammable).

In the end it doesn't really matter for me.

If Brad Pitt can get away with any hair cut, I can get away with any hair cut (*ahem *ahem Brad Pitt and I are on the same league in good lookingness).

While on the topic of grooming, my girlfriend laughed at me because I use my lynx shower gel as my full body cleansing solution.

Why do I need a shampoo, conditioner, soap, facial cleanser when a fully body gel does all of it in one go? The way I look at it, soap removes dirt.
And dirt doesn't differentiate if it wants to land on your face or your hair or your belly button.

So one soap to clean it all I reckon.

Girlfriend Cheats, Tip and Tricks v0.2a

I'm collecting tips and tricks so I can submit this to GameFaqs. If you guys have additional tips and tricks let me know.

Immunity
Save yourself from the wrath of any girl by making a schedule of their monthly menstrual cycle. Pamper them on their 'special days' and your immunity is secured.

Alternate Ending
If you want to die in an unusual way, give your girlfriend a squeaky toy and a tub of jello and tell her that you've been seeing her best friend.

Unlimited credit
Retail therapy is a natural occurence for girls. It cannot be separated or removed. Asking them to give up shopping is like asking them to cut their arms off. But to stop the unsavoury flavour of credit card debts use the line "Sweety, I think you look HOT in that dress and I'd really want to buy it for you.... But I'm saving for our future together...'
You earn double brownie points for thinking about the future.

Super Boyfriend Difficulty Setting
Tired of the same monsters and bosses? Try a
harder difficulty level by unlocking the Super Boyfriend Challenge Mode. Simply bring a packet of condoms next time you visit her parents and drop it accidentally near her father or mother.

Brownie Point Trick
Things that you're expected to do as a boyfriend doesn't earn you brownie points. Example, picking her up or having lunch with her. But you can earn brownie points by making an excuse for not being able to do such tasks. For example - I can't pick you up coz i still have work. Then, at the last minute, negate your excuse with 'Hi, I couldn't pick you up before, but I'll work over time tomorrow so I can pick you up'. This earns you brownie points on a brownie pointless event.

Double Brownie Point Gift Trick
This is similar to the Brownie point trick. Disappoint then please. When giving a present first give her a crappy gift. She'll have to smile and thank you because its a gift from you, but deep inside she's very very disappointed. Then, give her the real present. She'll be so surprised that she's not getting the crappy present, that you'll automatically get double brownie points for whatever your gift is.

Extreme Ends

Short Talk:
Father Joseph reminded the church of how people can go from one extreme to another in a short period of time. On palm sunday, Jesus was greeted with cheers and smiles and joy. And it would be the same group of people who would shout for his life the next week.
Hate and love. Fear and acceptance.
Such is being human. We go from one extreme to another.

What a strange weekend
Things went from one extreme to another.

Buffet to Entree

First was an all you can eat $10 buffet for Friday lunch. The food was okay but the $10 price tag was just ridiculous value!

$10 would usually buy a plate in a food court. At the place my friends took me, $10 lets you pig out on roast, lasagna, chicken, noodles, curry, sushi, salad - practically anything. There was a healthy food section but I had my eye on greasy food only :)

And while service was almost none-existent, it was a treat to stuff my gut without costing me a fortune.

On the other hand..

Friday evening took me to the other extreme of culinary experiences.

I joined my family for my brother's celebratory graduation dinner. We went to the C restaurant! The C Restaurant is a revolving restaurant on the top floor of some building that I forgot the name of (AAPT?)

A date with the family

Maaan - so nice! Classy with a grand piano and jazz singer. Everyone was dressed so nicely. And the view? Well - I don't think you can get a better view of Perth. Nothing beats a 360 degree view of the city. And the candlelit atmosphere matched the city lights. Simply superb.

I think I did get a bit nauseated at one time, but I blame it on my lunch haunting me. After a while you forget that you're being spun around and enjoy the great company and service of the place.

And even though a touch pricey, I don't think you can get this kind of experience anywhere else (the swivel chair in mcdonalds is just not the same experience).

Geeky to Giggly

Held on to my geeky briefs Saturday morning when my brother and I visited Perth's inaugural video game expo - GO3 2007. Surely when the line is this long - its gotta be good right? Right?

This exhibit is made of traffic cones and tape. Nice.

Sooo wrong. The place was rattling inside. It had no carpet (except the LAN thing that you had to pay for to enter) and the place almost empty. The expo had various electronics stores advertising their merchandise, but really, not much else.

I was impressed how realistic the graphics was.. You could almost touch it.

I was expecting big contributions from Nintendo and Sony but nopes - they didn't have a stall at all.

So my brother and I tried our best to make good of our over-priced $18 entry fee. We tried many of the demos and realised you had to spend hours on it to get a real feel of the game (which was what many of the game freaks were doing - hogging the stations!)

My brother at the nVidia display (take note of the legs behind him)

We had a turn playing Gears of War - which was mind-blowing (literally) that was good fun. But what made for a good show was the cosplay competition. Its amazing what lengths some people will go through to imitate their video game and anime idols.

This entrant got a lot of cheers. Daaamn she was hot. She was trying to look like I-no. She did pretty well I reckon :P

I managed to get a photo with the Nvidia models. My brother who took the photo didn't even get their legs :( He has soo much to learn when taking photos.I didn't take this photo.. but I wished I did

Speaking of long legs. I spent my saturday evening in the company of men in anticipation of just that - long long legs My friends' workmate was having his buck/stag night and I was lucky enough to tag along.

Things don't get more manly than a curry dinner with lots of beer and talk of women.

I feel sorry for the toilets all across Perth because beer and the extremely hot vindaloo make for a fiery mix. Hold on to them noses :P
Dinner was fun and the company a blast. I didn't know the guys that well but they were really easy to get along with.

Sadly the night was ruined by a two hour wait for our main entertainment. The guys agreed that this was just a stunt by the establishment to make us buy more drinks.

Although this gave the stag more time to alcohol, it left many of tired and restless.We all left a little bit annoyed and frustrated.

Funny how quickly some things turn.

Wrinkly Idols

There's no escaping it.

Every day that goes by gets us closer to magical place where bingo is exciting, fashion is everything woolen and music is always too loud.

I'm talking about getting old.

When I mean old, I don't mean wiser-smarter-more mature kinda old - I mean,
geriatric, wrinkly faced and cranky old.

Now I have nothing against getting old or old people. Its just another stage in this circle we call life.

My brother assures me the funky smell is natural and that I won't notice it when I'm at that age.

I just think that some old people should look upon themselves and say 'hey, I'm getting old - I don't think I should be doing this anymore'.

I say this because I recently saw Rocky Balboa.

The movie was in fact was about old people and literally puts the phrase 'hanging the gloves up' into retrospect. I think the main theme was, if you have one last 'fight' left in you, why would you let anyone else stop you? There is fire still burning there - why extinguish it prematurely?

In a perfect world where everyone ages perfectly and 90 year old grandma's look like bombshells, I say go ahead - keep doing what you love doing. Let them flames keep on burnin'.

But the sad reality is - butter has fat and cholesterol and time does awful things to a person's body.

Take these guys for example.
These guys used to be my idols. But their persistence to return to the big screen is diminishing what admiration I had for them (Arnie has done well in going to politics though - now he's become an idol for all the sportsmen-come actor-come politician wannabe Filipinos).

Rather than fading nicely into the Legends Hall of Fame with their kick-ass movies, perfect bodies, and unforgettable catch-phrases I now see them as 'has-been old fogies, border lining dirty-old-men-status, desperately clinging on to glory days'.

I must admit, Sylvester Stallone has done well in picking a more mature woman to be his love interest in his latest movie. If he picked anyone younger I would have puked Cheezels.

Life certainly doesn't end at 60. So kudos to them people enjoying life at whatever wrinkly age they may be.

There's a time and place for everything.

I was at Rise once and there was a guy old enough to be my grandad doing some sort of yoga dance routine on the stage. He looked like Mario from the Nintendo games minus the hair, minus the mustache and minus the mobility. There were girls next to him cheering him on, but I didn't think they were impressed by this robot dance move (I think that's how he actually moved). The girls laughed and it felt like they were mocking him. I didn't know if I should have bought him a drink, helped him bend himself up or put glow sticks on his cane. But it certainly didn't look right to have him there.

Now I don't want to see my dad snowboarding, but it would be nice to have a snowball fight with him. I can't imagine my mom learning how to surf, but I can see her doing swimming once in a while. And I certainly wouldn't expect my grandma (92!!) to be playing video games but it would be nice if she bought me a PS3.

Anyways, my point is - old people should stop pretending to be young. Its just wrong in so many levels.

Wrinkly skin is one of them.

Barbershop

The Italian barber motioned me that it was my turn. I was disappointed as I was getting to the juicy parts of the article entitled 'how to test if your girlfriend is a lesbian' on this month’s FHM issue. I swore to myself to stop reading such trashy material, but it was the reading material in the waiting section and I needed to pass time.

The short Italian barber looked to be near his sixties. His almost-maroon skin looking especially dark with his pale yellow shirt, bright red tie and cream pants. His face a cross between Mario and a prune.. minus the hair on top. It’s kinda funny asking someone who's losing hair to cut your own. Kinda like asking Ugly Betty for fashion tips.

Now I used to think talking to barbers was the right thing to do. With both of you sharing each other's personal space, it's only right to try and socialise and ease such foreign tension. But I’ve decided not to talk to pruny Uncle Mario today. I'd rather him concentrate on my hair than him stressing his very Italian vocabulary in answering my silly question of ‘how often do people ask for their nose hair to be trimmed?’

I took my glasses off and stared at my blurry reflection. Dam I look good when I can't see my reflection properly.

I sat there watching blurry Uncle Mario trim my blurry hair. The foggy peripheral of my thoughts fading into memories of when my dad used to take me to the barber.

If I had to recall happy memories with my dad, it would include the times he brought me and my brothers to the barbershop.

The barbershop in Malabon Philippines was located four houses left of my grandma's place which we visited almost every day (my grandma, not the barbershop). The barbershop is a small square shop with a smooth cement floor and four hair cutting chairs. The back side of the store led to someones house and smelled of cooking, the opposite a metal folding gate, entrance to the lime green barber shop. The mirrors on opposite end of the walls made the illusion of an infinite abyss which never failed to dazzle our young minds.

The barbers gave great hair cuts at very cheap prices. It’s no wonder all the blokes around the place had clean, well trimmed crops. The barbers were a trio, with Mang Nestor (Mr Nestor) my late grandpa’s friend, leading the other old timers. They're just your stereotypical old guys who talked of politics and boxing and smelled of baby powder, pomade and four day old body odour.

What made the barber trips particularly interesting were the posters of near naked women covering most of the lime green walls. The pics were of young models, similar to the viva hot , babes only of the eighties. In such a male oriented den, it seemed only fitting to have degrading arresting display of feminine beauty. Sadly back then my hormones have not kicked in and I didn’t’ know what the big fuss was with women. I stared at them posters with as much gusto I would a Snell chart.

But the barber trips always put a cheer on my dad’s stride. It was just us boys with dad. We didn't speak much, but that's how we communicate.

On our way home, my dad would be happy to do a side trip to a nearby store and buy our favourite drink - this with very little nagging.

When he’s happy, were happy. Life was good.

Uncle Mario has finished his job.

I awoke from my daze and put on my glasses. The haircut is much shorter than expected. I look like a dried up chiapet.

Oh well. It will grow back.

Fight Club

On the way to meet a friend I passed a bar in Northbridge where something was stirring. I badly needed to pee so I paid little attention to ruckus across the street. I walked quickly and thought only of dry happy things.

What made me stop was the scream of a young woman and a sudden eruption near the bar entrance. Then, a clump of men spilled out of the bar and rolled unto tile pavement. There was about eight of them, all huddled closely. Two of them obviously very upset, as they spat and swore at each other. Their faces red like tomatoes, yells accompanied with swinging arms restrained only by the group friends surrounding them.

What followed took me by surprise.

A third unknown guy previously just standing and watching ran towards one of the restrained men and drilled a right punch on the guy's face. Even the friends couldn't stop the victim falling to the ground. The third guy followed the punch with a knee but another has now darted towards him with swinging fists. The third guy tripped over and he was now being kicked in the stomach by a forth guy. Their fight so close to the road, cars have stopped to watch the ruckus.

One of the restrained guys had gotten loose and had started punching and kicking on the first that has fallen.

I’m about a fifty feet away and I can hear the thuds of the kicks and punches being exchanged. The sight of raw blood spilling unto the ground was awful.

What I thought was a common two-man bar brawl has now turned into a small riot with around 8 guys going one on one. Me and a lot more just stood there and watched.

The perimeter of their fight was getting bigger. Some bystanders have run away and I found myself dangerously close to the daylight fight club.

Standing there, I was no longer thinking about my bladder or my friends or family or hits on my blog site. I didn’t know what was going on but I felt the impending danger. My fist clenched, thumbs tucked in.

Fight or flight.

What would have made this an an interesting story was for me to Bruce Lee my way through the group of strangers. My fists flicking their faces and my kicks depressing internal organs. The finale would be a match up with the biggest and strongest of all. I would ask him to surrender because he killed my master, (with a voice slightly off synced with my lips) before I unleashed my dragon-butterfly-praying-mantis-palm-of-the-white-tiger kung-fu technique on him.

But in reality, the brawling stopped when bouncers stepped out. The bouncers didn't really do much, but their black jackets and burly bodies was a presence striking enough to stop them fighting.

And suddenly, it was back to normal again. Bystanders hiding in nearby stores came out, people started walking again and traffic flowed again.

Friends consoled the injured. I got a better view of the guy who was pounced. His blonde hair now stained with blood, his shirt bandaging his head.

It’s really impossible to tell what happens in a street fight. There is no code of honour or rules or practice runs. Anything goes. You find a lead pipe, you use it. You kick them in the crotch then you knee them on the head. You can get lucky and get a few swings in and you could get unlucky and rupture your kidney and die a few hours afterwards. A fight is a scary thing.

I wanted to stay and see what happened next, but I needed to pee.