Post birthday bash

Gotta say it. I'm a pretty lucky guy.

Not only did I get three cakes in a week, I also received a mild hangover as a birthday present from my 'thoughtful' ISO :) Obviously his idea of a birthday present - especially one approaching the dreaded big 3-0 - is to get so plastered with alcohol that you can't even recall your age. Dragged me to this little dive by the Malacca River that we frequent and downed several shots while counting down the number of guys we know who have been happily shackled to the bonds of marriage. Well, I counted down the number while my ISO regaled me with some of his more recent booty-shaking escapades. At the same time, he kept on surreptitiously signalling the waiter for a refill of my glass. Still I kept my head on straight and there was no repeat of last year's Chrismas fall from grace. Not sure if his nefarious plan worked but I can say that I'm feeling far less uptight today.

The cake came from my family who came down en masse this weekend to celebrate. Extremely large to fit the number of candles, made out of sinful chocolate indulgence ( surely enough calories to send Big Bicep Barry fleeing in horror ) and just enough to satisfy my large family's appetite ( or should I say family's large appetite... both are equally true BTW ). I don't mention it often - hell it would be so terribly sappy of me and though I might be a flaming fag, I actually don't do sappy - but my family always comes first to me. Since I am in a pretty competitive field, I always find some of my more ambitious colleagues staunchly advocating placing their careers before their families, before their marriages, before everything else in their lives. I just find that plain weird.

Working in intensive care, I have seen my fair share of death ( perhaps more but let's not dwell on that, shall we :) ). When a man is at the threshold of death there is no thought of his career or the paper chase, all he thinks of his loved ones - if any. On their deathbed, no one wishes that they'd spent more time at the office, everyone wishes that they could be at home.

Exhausted

What can I say? Three days of going out continuously has left me really tired today :) I'm certainly not as young as I used to be. It has to be age since I find myself dreading going out too late since it would involve myself driving back alone to my house - which is actually really far away in the suburbs and takes at least half an hour to reach. Nothing strikes the idea of being single home as much as waking down the driveway alone in the late hours of the night into an empty house. Would be different if I had a hot stud sitting beside me though :)

It always amazes me that I am really this close to being 30. I find myself mouthing blathering nonsense at work and having everyone - my colleagues, the nurses and the attendants - listening closely as if I was preaching God's word. By ye Gods, don't they actually know what a incompetent, brainless nitwit I am? Although I have been at it for so long, I barely know what I'm doing! :) Horrifying what boundless faith they have in an idiot like me.

But enough moaning and whining. Three days of complaining about my age can get real tiring :) My ISO comes back this weekend and I'm sure he'll put my head back on straight.

Candles

Two birthday cakes in as many days :) Single and desperate I might be but thankfully I do have my own group of friends willing to share - and have their slice of the cakes. It was terrible seeing the number of candles onboard though - surely enough firepower to keep Tenaga ( our national electric power provider ) up and running for months. What can I say? My friends thought it would be a hoot to have a ton of candles - and therefore, practically a bonfire - on the big-ass cake. It came as a crushing surprise that I've actually been in the department longer than all the rest of them though fortunately I am still not the oldest.

In comparison, the cake I had yesterday night was slightly larger than a postage stamp ( calling it a big cupcake would hurt its lil feelings after all ) and had just enough space for three stubby lil candles. Came from a lil cake shop that I found just around the corner from one of my favourite restaurants. Big Bicep Barry was a lil more worried about the cake frosting - and what it would do to his cut abs obviously. Still I managed to talk him into swallowing the cream. :) What can I say, I can be terribly persuasive.

Still have the weekend though and another cake to go. There goes my diet - not that I ever had one. :)

Till then check out what happens to Chris Evans after tasting some of my cream.

Brides-to-be

One of my medical attendants - a portly, slightly older one - is getting married in a few weeks. Finally. I was starting to suspect that he was a swishy, card-carrying faggot actually. The fact that he's finally settling down didn't surprise me... where he actually bought his wife did.

Just got up one of those cool mornings and walked down to the nearby housing estate to pick his wife out of a line-up. Seriously.

Mail-order brides have always struck me as something archaic, an idea meant to be filed in the dusty museums with the corsets and the bound feet slippers. And yet judging by the current state of affairs, it seems to have made a comeback of sorts - kinda like the corset. I have to admit it does fulfil a certain shortage when it comes to eligible brides - though I wonder why since damsels of a marriageable age seem to sprout up everytime I turn around, or perhaps it's because all my well-meaning relatives are taking the pains to introduce every desperate singleton they know to me. Still it obviously satisfies a certain clientele since a whole range of desperate gentlemen have been clamouring for a chance with these mail order brides. Sweet, nubile young things, just picked fresh from a healthy, rural farm in Vietnam, surely an irresistible lure.

Given a description of the girls marched out like so much cattle in small groups to face their would-be husbands, it actually reminds me of a slave market of old. Without the chains attached - not the ones that are visible to the naked eye anyway. They are then examined and thoroughly questioned by their prospective husbands - just short of examining their teeth and eyes.

If I sound terribly appalled, you would have guessed right. How terrible must the poor girl's lot in life be that she has to travel hundreds of miles to an unknown foreign land to marry a total stranger? Not only that, she only has two weeks on a tourist visa which means that she had better land a big fish in that span of time ( and most of the time, the fish she lands comes from somewhat unpalatable stock unfortunately ) or she'll be shipped back to the farms - like so much unwanted garbage.

As much as I might abhor such practices, still I have to wonder. If the roles were reversed, would I be tempted to take a bite? Say we swap the vivacious Vietnamese vixens for burly Burmese ( Myanmar if you wanna be PC ) boys? Or even tanned Turkish delights? Faced with the prospect of their beautiful smiles and their silky smooth, cocoa-latte skin ( and my own Dark and Delicious ), I find my indignation rapidly waning. Choosing a studly, tanned stallion from the irresistible range in their stables... hell, even with my vaunted self-control, I doubt I could resist the lure.

So where do I sign up for my own Myanmar hunk?

Reality check

Spent the afternoon moaning about my lack of companionship, recent celibacy and my approaching senility to my ISO who lent half a ear - since he was too busy demolishing my Turkish Delights store. Feeding him candy ( he calls it Devil Candy ) was part of my evil plan for him but I bet he's gonna work it off at the gym tomorrow anyway. After taking about an hour of my whining, he turned to me, finished chomping on some pistachio lokums and said, "You're turning 29. It's not a death sentence. We can watch reruns right now but if you want to break your vow of celibacy, come suck my dick."

Seriously. Those were his words - edited to cut out some of the more unsavoury language but you get the gist of it. I accomodated him on the television reruns offer but refused the second. One thing's for sure, my ISO doesn't scrimp on words ( and he's usually never politically correct especially when it comes to me ). You guys occasionally wonder why I keep him around. Well, he keeps things in perspective for me :) And catches me when I start to get melancholy - well, more like yells at me till I get out of my funk and yell back. Meek, submissive housewife, I'll never be.

Still it was rude of him and I slammed him with my Turkish pillow - just bought a week back and it looks fabulous on the couch! Deep brown/beige with golden highlights.

Have to forgive him though since he got me a DVD to amuse myself with... Eating Out. Kinda a pre-birthday present. It's about a straight boy who pretends to be gay so that he can get close to a girl with a gay roommate. Convoluted? Yeah, it is but can I say that the straight boy, Caleb... AKA Scott Lunsford looks absolutely delicious?

Aging perv

What can I say? Age is obviously catching up to me - especially since I caught myself dreaming terribly inappropriate images of sinfully young men - practically jailbait seriously. Such a terribly old pervert thing to do actually.

This evening, I had a charity dinner to attend ( such a terribly doctor-like thing to do - attending charity dinners and playing golf ) attended by a host of well-meaning Christian fellows and some assorted wellwishers - mostly flocking by for a view of the incomparable Malaysian Idol, Jaclyn Victor, who was scheduled to sing. The charity was held in order to help out the Montfort Boys Home - a charity institution that offers technical courses to underprivileged youths.

While the rest of the audience was busy listening to the amazing Malaysian crooner, I was held transfixed by a number of the Montfort Boys. Hell, I sure don't know what they're feeding them over there but they're sure growing them fine over there.

I am a bad man.

Birthday blues

To my horror, I checked the date and realized that in a week, I'll be turning a year older. Hell, most of you know how old I am so it doesn't really matter. Suffice to say, I'm not the big 3-0 yet... but so amazingly close, I find it impossible to believe. Somehow or rather I don't find myself old enough - or mature enough to be even that close to 30. In my head, I'm still practically a kid wet behind the ears.

Back when I was a kid, I had simple dreams. No trips to Mars for me. No king of the world. No castles in the air. I didn't need to conquer the world. I didn't need to be at the top of my career. I didn't need to make a million bucks. Never one to aim for that pie in the sky, I just imagined the whole package of a great home, a wonderful wife and kids, a satisfying career. Simple, really!

Halfway there already though.... well, I do have a great home. Would take ages for me to finish the mortgage but I'm having so much fun decorating that I don't actually mind! I do have an okay job - it still pays measly peanuts ( which explains the above ) and expects us to do an elephantine amount of work but with a gun to my head, I will admit to liking it on the odd days that I'm not whining. Since I'm not straight, obviously the wife bit of the package has been revamped to that of a brawny, testosteroney hunk of a husband. Still working on that bit though.

On that note, I have a lunch with my ISO on Saturday. He won't be around next week so he's giving me my birthday gift early ( since he knows I'm a whore for free stuff ). Have I mentioned that I'm a sucker for gifts? :)

Guilt pangs

A man's gripe about non-fattening foods triggered a similar recollection in my head. Just a few days prior to my fantabulous Middle Eastern experience, I actually caught a movie with Big Bicep Barry. Unsurprisingly for a big burly guy, he's a huge diving fan, it seems, and he relishes every chance to get Into the Blue. I'd love to get into Paul Walker myself but that's something else entirely.

The movie was... okay. The plot was a little flimsy, there was no one to actually root for but the simple fact that Paul Walker's studly beach bum character didn't have sufficient funds to clothe himself made up for the whole shebang. Seriously. Some men should remain shirtless all the time. Paul Walker made that list.

After the early movie, we ( Barry and me - not Paul and me though that would have been great too )made a quick getaway for a bite. After being exposed to all that zero-fat, gym-toned muscle goodness on screen, Barry guiltily ordered a mini salad - usually reserved for scrawny singletons the size of Ally McBeal - while I stockpiled for winter with a plate of hearty noodles, some fried wantan ( dripping in oil ) and a tray of delicious pastry liberally covered in cholesterol/mayonnaise. So while the strapping, muscular six-footer daintily munched through a few leaves, I relentlessly ravaged my way through the entire forest - no doubt swallowing up a few hapless animals on the way.

Barry was stunned and I felt like a ravenous beast.

Still, I did learn one thing about myself... that I simply can't sacrifice good food for a tight-six pack. Some things are just far too irresistible. Gotta say that only Chris Evans in a skimpy white towel would be sufficient impetus to make me give up all that :) So Chris, if you're reading this... do a good deed, get out of your clothes and help me lose some weight please.

The 23rd Post

Another meme... this time tagged by Wingedman Will on the 23rd post. Such an interesting way to make me go back through my blog and read through some of the inane, incredibly hilarious experiences I'd had this year. Fittingly enough, my 23rd post was about a man who has played a significant part in my life - for a short period, the starring role, but now relegated to a side player of sorts with the occasional cameo - and it's titled Alfie and my ISO. The 5th sentence would mean absolutely nothing by itself so I'm gonna give the 4th sentence and parts before...

Popcorn, an easy movie and my ISO ( insignificant other for the uninitiated ). There's a long background story over here but to cut a long story short, he's my cheating ex who I remain friends with since stabbing him with a knife would mean jail term for me - and those stripes never did anything for me. Although I would never admit it to my horridly conceited ISO, there are shades of him in the stories I write. :)

I can easily remember that - and the other dark movie theatres we went together and other things we did :) People are always wondering how we maintain a platonic relationship together - and I've always wondered in return... why not? There has to be a certain amount of love, respect and trust to form the foundations of a solid relationship - and even after the fallout ( earthquake, tsunamis, roving eyes ), there should still be something left in the rubble to rebuild.

Shouldn't there? :) Surely when the roof and the walls have fallen, there has to be something left behind.

So, we do actually remain as good friends - despite the occasional homicidal thought on my part. A purely fraternal relationship, please! I advocate safe sex for him and he tells me to let my hair down and sleep/slut around ( not to mention frequent nagging about dieting and going to the gym ). I even bought an evil eye from Turkey for him.. it's so gawdy and touristy that I'm sure he'd love it.

A more coherent view of Istanbul

Just returned from my vacation and still a little zonked out from the flight. Guess I'm not cut out to be a pilot ( unlike our Wingedman Will ) since I have this horribly painful recurrent middle ear problem, usually made much worse by my inexplicable predilection for developing colds in foreign lands. Think ringing - yet oddly numbing - sensations that take a few hours to disappear. Obviously I'm not the ideal air traveller but still I persist in pushing myself every few months towards the next exotic locale.

What can I say about Istanbul? I loved it. Succinctly put of course - in comparison to my earlier post that sounded quite incoherent - probably due to the mind-boggling Turkish keyboard ( configured with two Is and a smorgasboard of unknown letters ) and perhaps the raki I'd consumed generously. Not easy saying no to those terribly persistent... sexy, smouldering dark-eyed Turkish men.

More on dark-eyed Turks later :)

Surprisingly easy to get around the city - even though there is a minor communication setback since a significant number of the locals don't speak English, unfortunately for me. Still it was easy enough navigating with the help of a good map and a smile. Gonna compile my list of things to do as a stereotypical wacky tourist in Istanbul - which I'm sure my eminently hospitable friends at Istanbul can verify or refute :)

1. Stare in awe at the monuments at Hagia Sophia, Topkapi Palace and the amazing Iznik tiles at the Blue Mosque...
And of course buy the Iznik inspired ceramics later - like I did :)

2. Tour the Grand Bazaar and go hog-crazy over bargaining...
Gotta say I enjoyed myself there - especially since I went there practically every day :) Bought carpets, ceramics, paintings, bronzework, leather... I'm sure I got slashed a few times by the wily traders but heck, I enjoyed myself! The famed carpet merchants of the Grand Bazaar stand patiently by the their wares just waiting to descend upon unsuspecting tourists with their sweet apple tea - and their even sweeter smiles - and come on, how could you possibly go along and not come back with at least one rug!

And the leather... jackets so soft you could melt in them - and unfortunately too damned hot for my country.

3. Venture into the Spice Bazaar for a taste of Turkish Delight...
It gets to you. Really. The more you taste it, the more you'll start craving Turkish Delight - or lokum as they call it. Alongside the sweet confections... there's a plethora of spices, dried fruits, nuts and seeds piled up - filling the area with the fragrance of the exotic East.

4. Be awakened by the sound of a thousand muezzins in the early morning...
It might not be the morning call we're all used to but I have to admit, I enjoyed waking up to it during my vacation since time was on my hands. Wouldn't say the same back home though :)

5. Have a sip of Turkish Coffee...
Well, certainly not my cup of tea but when one is in Istanbul... and together with that you can try other specialties such as börek ( kinda thin rolled pastry ) and baklavas.

6. See the marvellously fascinating whirling dervishes...
And fall in love with the enthralling music of the Order of Sufism. Believe me, I bought a few CDs and it's as far as the usual jazz I listen to as it can get.

7. Get steamed at the Turkish baths!
Seriously! Everyone should have a go at this. Although I unfortunately took off my glasses and almost walked into someone's lap ( all that steam, you see! ), I totally recommend this unique experience.

8. Walk the streets of Istiklal Caddesi in Beyoglu...
And dance with a dark-eyed stranger. Without sounding too starry-eyed, what can I say? Turkish boys are amazingly hot - and I can assure you I'm not under the influence right now. Think smouldering dark eyes, glossy black curls, spectacular golden-olive tan... all wrapped up in a Middle Eastern delight. Oddly enough, Turkish wolfs travel in large packs... all guys, no girls ( a good number suitably cloistered at home, I assume ). Even on the streets, they are seen hand in hand.

Add that number of Turkish men walking about to the number of young Turkish policemen patrolling the streets ( a sinfully large amount in every corner! )... and it's literally raining men in Istanbul :) Hell, with all the good things I just said about the place, they should have let me take a cute Turk home!

Istanbul

What can I say? I'm liking it here in Istanbul - despite the odd Turkish keyboard letterings that they have provided me in the Internet cafe. Bought loads of stuff that would have my brother staring agog, I'm sure. Think lamps, carpets, paintings etc. Guess I am gonna be kinda broke for a while.

Gotta add a note though. You guys were rıght. Turkish men are HOT!

Vegging out

All the other gay men are out clubbing on Friday nights :) Shaking their tight booty, sweat and gel slicked up in their spiked up hair, blinding laser lights dancing off the sheen on their bare gym-toned chests, the floor rumbling with the thumpa-thumpa beat of the latest technocraze hit.

Seriously, I don't know where the boys find the damned strength - are they all hyped up on some new drug that I don't know of? After a whole week's worth of mind-numbingly tiring work, I can only switch everything off, slide down to the floor and do absolutely nothing, at least nothing that requires using up too much mental capacity. I forgot all about the nasty politics at work, the little dramas played out amongst some of the colleagues - and especially the heartbreaking tragedies that happen in the hospital. On Fridays that I'm not working, I grab a few pillows, a favourite novel, a mug of hot chocolate, dump them all in front of my telly and watch re-runs of Sex and the City :)

Hell, no wonder I'm fucking single! And dammit, I'm a hop, skip and a week away from becoming Bridget Jones! Maybe I should start belting out All By Myself in my pyjamas.

Tainted Love

A young lady lies in intensive care this morning, her face battered, her brains shattered from her alleged abuser's fists. Her husband's.

What actually compels a person to remain in an abusive, destructive relationship? Relationship issues borne from a deprived childhood? A twisted, sadistic kinda love? The faint flicker of hope that he could change, miraculous though that might be? A misplaced sense of security? Do they seriously believe that a person who resorts to such simple acts of violence to resolve their issues will change in a day?



Let's face it, this cycle of abuse doesn't only happen to women. Although there are a number of ladies with a capacity for violence, let's not fool ourselves. Men have always been brutish, violent specimens ( and I admit I like some of that tough machismo in small doses ) - and two men together in a relationship can be quite the recipe for a disaster.

When I hear stories from my nurses of those getting battered in a relationship, it only raises my blood pressure :) Why the fucking hell remain in such relationship! My ex, well, my ISO, he is taller, larger and his fists would definitely pack more of a punch than mine - but for all his wicked, philandering ways, he has never raised a hand to me - and neither have I ( do I look suicidal? ). Not sure how I would react if the deed actually happened - though thoughts of hacking him up into little pieces with a hatchet afterward sounds good ( what can I say, I have my own vicious tendencies ) - but I'm sure I'd do the rational adult thing, just turn and walk out the door never to return. There is no way I could remain in a relationship which undermines my self-esteem, tears down my confidence - and leaves me with more than superficial bruises. Is it really worth it?

An eye for Istanbul

Have been saying some time that I'm planning a trip to Istanbul... and I'm finally going next week. After a few weeks of rants, half-threats and pleas, I've managed to garner enough days of leave to fly off to Istanbul for about a week. Since I joined the department years back, tere has always been a severe shortage of manpower here - well, there's a severe shortage of doctors everywhere - but it's particularly acute in our department. That shortfall is made worse by the fact that my head of dept is continually trying to expand the services.

But I shall not rant. Shall limit myself to one good rant about my department in a week.



It's been a while since I've been abroad ( last trip was to Shanghai almost a year back and my lonely passport has been shedding tears in my cabinet ) and I'm defnitely raring to go. Already have my bags packed despite the fact that I'm not travelling till the end of the week. Unfortunately as I removed some of the things in my backpack, I realized that the contents in mine certainly aren't as prepossessing as the contents of Will's backpack. What can I say? Doctors can be boring.

1. Black ink pens
2. Highlighters in pink, yellow and green - for my notes
3. Clinical Anesthesiology by Edward Morgan, Maged S. Mikhail
4. Drugs and Anesthesia by Margaret Wood
5. Assorted notes
6. The daily newspaper - usually either the Star or the Straits Times, depending on availability
7. My name tag and my chop - important for verification and the all important medical chit
8. Nestle Instant Cereal packets - and the occasional oatmeal
9. Fork and spoon
10. An umbrella for those rainy days

And shockingly...
11. Condoms!

Uncertain how it got there but I actually stared at it for five minutes. It was unopened of course ( hell, if I've been having regular hot, sweaty sex, there wouldn't be as many rants :) ). Wishful thinking on my part during some crazy period of my life?

Good Apples

Perhaps I have actually found a small niche in my department. No matter how much I might deploe the horrible state of affairs in my working place, I cannot lay any blame on my colleagues. Despite a few bad apples ( rotten to the core, I'm sure ) I've culled more than a few good apples in the barrel too.

All of us have our share of complaints in whatever career we're working in but it helps to have friends along the way. A close-knit group of friends in the department - Tiny Tim & Tina, Shameless Shalom, Handsome Hui .. and we help each other shoulder the burdens as we trudge along this horrible path we've chosen ( sometimes forced on us though ). But every once in a while, we just need to veer off the path, take a rest and just mouth off on the crappy workload they're giving us. And it always helps to have some good food to keep the mouth running.

Today.. it's Japanese steamboat :) And some beer to loosen the tongue. Still a bit tipsy right now but I assume I've managed to write somewhat coherently. There was a point in the conversation when we were discussing relationships that I almost inadvertently came out to them. Was kinda bored pretending that I wasn't interested in relationships and was content being single... when all of know that hell, it's really the opposite :) Still I retracted the comment over some questionably cooked lamb chops. Was it the right time?

Outdoorsy?

Perhaps it's old age, maturity or a sense of self-preservation ( that comes hand-in-hand with the other two ) but I've reluctantly turned my back on a significant part of my life. That thought occurred to me today when in my post-call daze, I noticed some tired Scouts trudging down the road, with their backpacks weighing them down.

Nowadays I certainly wouldn't call myself an outdoorsy, hiking, mountain-climbing, extreme-sports kinda guy. Far from it, in fact, and the only way you'd get me close to mud and dirt is by having Chris Evans wallowing blissfully naked in a mudhole.

Damn, that deserves a moment.

*ahem*
What was I saying again? Oh yeah, the mud and the dirt. My ultra-clean, fastidiously neat urban persona nowadays is certainly different from my schooldays when I was actually a... Scout. Seriously, no kidding. And no snickers, please. Back when my life was much simpler and far more innocent than it is right now, when boys were still boys ( and I didn't have horrifically pornographic images in my head of what boys did to other boys in the dark :) ), I was a dyed-in-the-wool, bonafide Scout.

Not only a Scout but an innocent one too! At that time, my rampaging hormones hadn't caught up with me yet and though I did have some barely formed sexual thoughts, it never occurred to me to try anything with the hot, virile young boys all camped around me, barely clad in shorts. Wasted chances, I'd have to admit :)

Looking at me now, you wouldn't think that I'd actually crawled through mud covered in leeches with my shorts irreparably soaked through with mud, gunk and God-knows-what-else ( and still have the pictures to prove it ) but I actually went camping, canoeing, abseiling, hiking, mountain-climbing.. really, all of the above... Heck, I even cycled more than half a day cross the state borders just to get a fucking badge!

Not sure what exactly possessed me to do all those insane things. Right now, even the thought of burning off a leech from my thigh gives me the goosebumps! And I doubt I could cycle even to work - judging from my singularly pathetic attempts at the gym.

Nowadays, I tend to stay away even from the sun. Have any of you notived how bloody scorching it can get ( The uv rays!! )? Doubt I'll turn parchment white like a nocturnal vampire though since I tan quite easily but let's face it, my work tends to keep me hidden indoors - crawling in the subterranean depths of the hospital where sunlight is almost a forgotten dream. Not to mention we all know how much a doctor has an inherent fear of germs and tropical parasites. Malaria! Leptospirosis! And that's just tip of the iceberg.

What has happened to me! :)