Grocery Shopping II

You guys already know what I have in my woefully unequipped larder - though I've managed to fill it up some since checking to find it nearly empty. Certainly no divalicious domestic goddess like my friend Snowie ( not forgetting her ever-capable culinary companion Spot ) who can craft fanciful frog princes from sugarpaste and gummy sweets but I know enough to make a hearty little breakfast of maple-syrup laden pancakes this morning. And my wonderful God given cup of coffee.

Which is more than I can say for Charming Calvin :) Both of us went for a bit of grocery shopping the other day - yeah, terribly domestic, I know - searching for fresh goods to stock up in his spanking new fridge ( finally! ). After all a man simply can't live on Mamee and Pringles Potato Chips forever - despite what Calvin might say.

You know what, I think all gay men should go grocery shopping on their first dates - it certainly tells a lot about a person since unsurprisingly both of us have vastly differing ideas on what essential food items we should have in the fridge. Although I'm certainly no alfalfa-bean-sprout swallowing health freak like a certain friend of mine, I do have my standards - and when Calvin drew out that grocery list, it had me slack-jawed in astonishment. Talk about living up to the oft-repeated maxim about the typical bachelor slob's grocery list. :)

1) Sausages - which isn't all that abnormal actually but the man intends to boil them since he doesn't want to stink up his new apartment with billowing clouds of smoke and oil. But to add boiled sausages to instant noodles?!

Paul : Boiled sausages in noodles? Seriously?
Calvin : Yum.
Paul : Are you in some severely deprived wartorn country?
Calvin : No?
Paul : Why not buy some meat and vegetables - and just slice it up?
Calvin : Too lazy.
Paul : You are already making two-minute noodles.

Well, Jamie Oliver, he isn't. Guess he can do the cleaning up after my culinary disasters :P

2) Soy milk - estrogen anyone? Not sure why he suddenly had a soya compulsion but I like them too so I won't argue.
3) Milk - the man does love his milk.
4) Breakfast cereal - coerced Calvin into getting the cute little child-friendly disposable boxes since I know for sure he's gonna leave the large carton lying around on the kitchen counter otherwise.
5) Ngan Yin groundnuts - not sure whether he intends to have a football marathon or play mahjong but it nonetheless surprised me. What a typically Chinaman buy! Maybe he's gonna get a white singlet and khaki shorts next :P
6) Instant noodles - my boy is definitely Chinese.
7) Creamy butter - not sure what he intends to do with the butter since he didn't buy any bread. And get your thoughts out of the gutter, we don't use butter for that :)

No rice shockingly enough. I can already see Asian mothers everywhere wailing over the woefully empty rice bin. And no bread as I mentioned. No oil, no salt, no sugar. Obviously he isn't going to be making me a home-cooked meal anytime soon :P

I know. It's sadly even more spartan than my empty larder. Calvin also had his eye on some ice-cream but somehow or rather, we both forgot all about it during our relentless search for the breakfast of champions. It wasn't intentional, I swear!

Family portraits

Family portraits.

Most of us have them hanging in that special place down the hallway - even I have several professionally framed ones up on my dining room wall in special pride of place. Different generations of a single bloodline sitting together laughing and talking, there'll be that ubiquitous graduation photo with cap and gown, the crucial wedding shot where the bridebites her rouged lips looking nervous while the groom beams blissfully with eyes bloodshot from last night's hangover. Sometimes looking at the rows of photos, I feel that little pang in my heart.

Don't get me wrong, I haven't recently been orphaned and deprived of the singular pleasure of having a family around who loves me. I do have that at the moment with my almost uncomfortably large brood of aunts and uncles, cousins and relatives. Uncomfortable would be a severe understatement for them since come Chinese New Year or any other festive celebration, there's always a rowdy, boisterous army of kith and kin ready to wreak havoc back home in Penang.

But when it comes to the smaller, more intimate occasions, Christmases and birthdays, it's always left to my brother and me. Although he has started a small tribe of his own, it certainly doesn't match those of my parents. Doubt there are all that many in this reproductively challenged generation of singles and doubles that could possibly match up to having a football team full of siblings ( and that's with a few backbenchers too ) ... but sometimes I do wonder what it's life to have more than a handful of brothers and sisters bickering and quarrelling over the most trivial matters. You see them on serial familiy dramas all the time... barbaric hordes of family members diving for that final piece of chicken wing, squabbling sisters pulling hairs over that first place in the shower come New Year morning, brothers brawling over control of the all-powerful remote.

In her more pensive moods, my mother would confide that she wished she could have more children and I've never disagreed. Reason enough for me to keep in close contact with my plethora of unruly cousins - who unfortunately enough now live in all farflung corners of the Asia-Pacific region :) Always wondered what it's like to have a big sister giving unsolicited advice and possibly tossing the large hair brush at me when I don't listen. Or a little brat of a brother who's gonna sneer and complain that my secret porn stash has been clogging up the hard disk. Or that little sister who's gonna steal my MP3 player and not return it. Ever.


Me, my brother and my sister-in-law...:)
Say what you will but trust me, it certainly beats having the same regular partner for Monopoly and Uno month after month :) Is it any wonder that after being involuntarily thrown together on a daily basis for twenty years, my dissimilar brother and I started developing in wholly opposite directions? Even my sister-in-law wonders that we could have come up from the same womb with the same upbringing - and sometimes even I start to think that one of us just might have been switched at birth.

Every once in a while my sweet little niece ( well, that's when she's not throwing one of her hissy fits ) comes over and asks me when she'll ever have cousins of her own ( possibly instigated by her subtly matchmaking mother ) and I find myself unsurprisingly at a loss for an answer. What do I tell her? How do I tell her? Do I lie by telling that her bachelor uncle's vehemently opposed to the institution of marriage and the act of childbearing? Or do I tell her the sadder, convoluted truth - that this country certainly isn't ready to face the chilling spectre of a gay man adopting?

Yeah. Family portraits. They do make you think.

...***...

Not gonna leave everyone feeling depressed and down in the dumps of course, especially since news of my nomination has put a queer smile on my face :) After all, it's certainly not my style to wail and moan over things we can't change... and hey, it's not all doom and gloom in the queer world since every once in a while, if you're lucky enough you do meet the one guy who becomes your family.



Just ask Kevin Walker.

And the nomination goes to....

Well, we all know that fabulous gay boys love sashaying down red carpets in their Vera Wangs and their sassy feather boas so how better to showcase such style than to have an award ceremony :) If you'd recall the earlier nomination I had and cherished, you'd be pleased to know ( as am I! ) that I've been nominated for some other bloggies. Hell, just makes me wanna run out and grab that sparkling Swarovski tiara ( since I doubt I could afford real diamonds at the moment ).

Just wonderful ( and amazing! ) to have readers out there nominating me! Almost makes me wanna do a Sally Field. Nominated for Best Writing of Blog and Best Asian Blog on the GayBloggies and Best GLBT Blog Writing and Best GLBT Asian Blog on Verve.

So get on down to the sites below and vote for your favourites. At the same time, you can also check out some excellent ( and often sexy ) gay blogs - just like I'm doing right now. Some are so sinfully good that pretty soon, I'm sure my blogroll's gonna start expanding. :P

Masculine Rituals

No, I'm not gonna talk about the peculiar butt-slapping, crotch-grabbing ( vaguely homoerotic ) behaviour practised by hearty, virile heterosexual men of sport.

It's all about the secret little narcissistic ( banal? ) rituals that most men have to endure when they mature. For a boy anxiously taking his first steps into puberty, several things start to evolve, change and grow. No, I'm not gonna talk about that growth, you wicked pervs. :) In a matter of months - sometimes days, that innocent smooth-cheeked Bel Ami boy of youth starts shooting up into gangly limbs, drops two octaves and starts developing facial hair.

It's my secret theory that when Adam and Eve got evicted from that celestial nudist paradise Casa Eden, not only was he punished with an apple involuntarily stuck in his manly throat, poor Adam also received accelerated hair growth around his square jaw that necessitates regular attempts to slice and dice himself with a sharp implement. Or what we would call shaving. Talk about cutthroat punishment.

While poor Eve got stuck in the red tent with her monthfly flows. An even worse fate from what I hear from my woeful female cousins but let's not go there. Not sure exactly what happened to the bewildered Steve since God only knows.

Of course modern man has evolved from the days when we used to scrape sharpened stones and broken seashells across our cheeks just to get intimate with the ones we love ( without resorting to giving them stubble rash ).


Hmm... definitely no nicks on that smooth skin.,,
Let's face it, we've all seen those lovely little hallmark presentations where the sexy half-naked dad teaches his son to shave, prompting hilarious laughter when the shaving foam starts to fly? Well, that glorious male traditon was never that saccharine sweet, I believe. Can't recall how I managed to shave myself in the beginning but I believe my father tossed me a disposable blade and just ordered me to get on with it. Is it any wonder that once violent, bloodthirsty little me wielded the almighty razorblade, I ended up with little nicks and scratches all over?

These days, frou frou metrosexual teachings advocate a whole plethora of sophisticated implements and essential accessories for that perfect shave, turning it into an elaborate artistic showcase of masculine ritual - almost akin to Japanese tea drinking ceremonies. Shaving creams and soaps, aftershave and balms, razors and brushes, even shaving bowls and mugs.

Far from being the purported new metrosexual, I'm a simple ( though some might say bad ) gay man. My needs are relatively simple and all I require ( since I don't actually have the wild tough whiskers of a Wolverine ) is the blade and water - especially when I'm voluntarily thrown into the pathetically spartan gaol at work. Even the bloody mirror is a relative bonus sometimes.

However when I'm not at work for a few days, my now superior shaving skills go into semi hibernation and my trusty razor starts to accumulate rust. Although some career paths practically exult the unkempt, unshaven look such as the mad scientist labs and the deranged starving artiste commune, the stringent medical hierarchy tends to frown upon such unconventional shaving habits. Though there are small exceptions. Since he somehow managed to cultivate a revolutionary mini-stubble of his own, not sure how Handsome Hui managed to charm his way out of such scrutiny.

Sure it's a banal chore but I'm starting to resemble an indigent hobo without a shaving brush. Doubt any of my patients would be able to take advice from someone who looks like just crawled out from living in a cardboard box under the subway station.

Obviously it's time to learn some grooming secrets that separates the men from the boys...
How to get that perfect shave

This Devil wears Prada

Somewhere deep inside their wallets - or for our more fabulous brothers, their Prada manpurses, most dedicated shopaholics have hidden that supersecret semi-orgasmic wish list. Certain gloriously to-die-for sinful pleasures that are either far too exorbitant costing the annual GDP of a small African nation or possibly far too outrageous to be worn anyplace other than a sinfully decadent French 19th Century soiree. And that's before the violent anti-fashionista revolutionaries came aboard to lop their pretty lil heads off.

Secret wish lists came about when my sister-in-law asked me what I wanted for my birthday / Christmas since they were sadly AWOL during the past week. Since Brandon Routh didn't seem to be an appropriate present - how would we transport such a large gift and how would we gift wrap? Man of Steel with a bow and a smile would work but without wrap that would be tacky - I had to settle for some far less titillating and far more achievable dreams. Things I would love to have but wouldn't be able to justify to my nail-biting nerve-wracked accountant near tax time. Who knows, maybe Santa might see this when he's online during his break time.

Although I might toss on the occasional irregular shirt making me look like a desperately unkempt middle-aged hobo on the make, like any red-blooded gay man worth his salt I can certainly appreciate couture.

The ubiquitous wool / leather trenchcoat

Certainly one of the things that would make me halt in my tracks at the windows of a clothing store. Like Holly Golightly ogling and drooling over the sparklies at Tiffany's, I spend my time doing much the same over trenchcoats. Oohing and aahing like a hopeful indigent immigrant with my greasy hands pressed against the windows while the snooty salespersons watch me with quiet disdain.

Not sure why I like them but perhaps some shades of the card-tossing mutant Remy Lebeau? Many's the time I've dragged poor Charming Calvin ( the man buys nothing! ) into a store just to try on some coats though I'm not sure when I'd ever find the opportunity to wear such a coat - especially with the hideously sultry weather here but hell, the rivers of perspiration and the ever-present risk of sunstroke would be well worth it.

Kenneth Cole boots

Mmmmm.... leather.... boots.... mmm..... sometimes I think the fratifying feel of buttery soft leather that melts as your feet sink in ( down with the cows! ) is almost as good as a gorgeous man feeling you up in a public taxi. Notice I said almost, I'm not crazy nor dead. Ever since Nancy Sinatra first sang about it - and then Jessica Simpson had to vamp it up with her sadly slutty take on the classic, I've always wanted some boots that were made for walking. Again, not sure what I'd do with them since work usually means hideous uncomfortable crocs - no matter what the enthusiastic touts claim. Still. They are sexy boots. And certainly made for kicking in the changing room to make out with the reluctant yet oh-so-irresistible salesman hunk, then to imprint the heel on that naked manly chest as he...

Is it getting hot in here? Ah. Boots.

Woven shirt two sizes too small


Too sexy for my shirt
Well for that to happen, I'd need to stop eating carbs for at least half a year and frequent the gym for something other than drooling mindlessly over eyecandy so that's definitely an impossible dream - but it's still nice to have some dreams :) Don't get me wrong, already have a whole closetful of shirts in a myriad of rainbow colours - courtesy of selling bits of my soul and bank account to Raoul - but most are comfortably semicasual at best, with none of the breath-holding-tight, torso-hugging contours favoured by super-slim zero-fat beaus these days.

Platinum cufflinks

Admittedly, just started on this overly dandified affectation but... they are so very cute and pretty! And shiny! And did I mention pretty? Definitely a bloody bore to get onto the cuffs ( practically have to twist your fingers into knots sometimes ) but they look so... polished at the end.

Unlimited credit

No worries. I'm not gonna go crazy... just unlimited credit at Kinokuniya / Borders or failing that, Amazon :)

...***...

Of course with my hideous homely features, none of the clothes are gonna work as well as it would on Chris Evans and the rest of the droolsome Abercrombie modelicious boys but I'd at least be able to feel somewhat fabulous with such accoutrements :)

As much as I'd love that avant-garde Philippe Starck lamp, I wouldn't place home decor items on my wish list since I doubt many would be able to appreciate my particular tastes, Persian rugs and all... :) Other than my lamp bringer of course.

You might notice the sad lack of boyish technogadgets on my wish list... well, as much as I'd love that Ipod Nano, I wouldn't dare purchase it coz I'm pretty much the sad technohimbo who hasn't even managed to figure out how to manipulate his overly sophisticated cell. Sadly I've only pretty much mastered the abacus at best.