Black Sheep Returns

Chinese New Year is a time when the family gathers at the ceremonial altar to pay their respects to their distant ancestors, hoping to be showered with future blessings especially when it comes to the next generation.

Guess we must have missed that particular benediction this year since it seems the black sheep in the family has started to live up to his name. After several generations of dull, nondescript law-abiding citizens, maybe he figures it's time we had some notoriety to shake things up!

A while back I made an ominous prediction that we'd probably have to raise funds to bail out my prodigal cousin one day - and it looks like my cousin Richie Runt is doing all he can to turn that into a self-fulfilling prophecy. Unsatisfied with merely extorting protection fees from even smaller runts, it seems that Richie has set his sights a bit higher by resorting to a bit of petty thievery instead.

Seriously don't know which is worse.


Dammit, how else to distinguish myself from the rest of my upstanding cousins! Maybe with a suitably colourful rap sheet? Maybe if I rob a bank?
Didn't take long after the reunion dinner before Lispy Lori pulled me aside to fill me in with the sordid details.

Lori : We think Richie Runt has been stealing from the coffeeshop till.
Paul : WTF. Are you sure?
Lori : Yes, we have proof. We didn't believe it ourselves until we saw the evidence. Video-cams and all that.
Paul : I hold him down, you break his arms and legs.
Lori : Wait, there's more.
Paul : So you brought it to the attention of his parents?
Lori : That actually made it worse. Well, you know his mother.

To compound to the nearly insurmountable problems faced by Richie Runt, his mother - the erstwhile Bo Peep - has not only lost any semblance of control over her black sheep, it seems she has lost her head as well. Rather than proffer any solid evidence to counter the supposedly erroneous accusations, our increasingly agitated Bo Peep instead forced her son to kowtow before said ancestral altar to proclaim his unsullied innocence.

While she provided increasingly shrill whines and wails to accompany the hysterical dramatics. Weepy Korean drama heroines couldn't possibly hold a candle to her imagined pathos.

Lori : Made her son Richie swear on the graves of his ancestors that he had never done any such thing on pain of having his limbs summarily broken.
Paul : Wow. Drama. Make cuts on their wrists to prove their innocence too?
Lori : Wish they had. I only thought it happened on television.
Paul : Evidently it's based on our family. Wish I was there though.
Lori : With your temper, you'd probably have strangled them both.
Paul : Quite likely. But I'd have taken a video of the ensuing hysterics for youtube first.
Lori : Sell the video instead so we can save the money to bail him out one day.

At the rate Richie Runt is regressing, I think that might be a strong possibility. Since he's turning eighteen soon, even juvenile court isn't going to save him anymore.

Prosperity Colours

Hopefully by the time you're reading this, I'd have found my bright canary yellow shirt.

Ever since my cousins and I started earning our very own paychecks, we have started this tradition of dressing up for Chinese New Year. Buying snazzy new gear from head to toe isn't just for the kids anymore! And each year, we tend to stick to a particular theme to match.

Much to my everlasting dismay, someone picked yellow this year as an homage to our family name!

Bet none of you would be terribly surprised but this town isn't exactly a renowned mecca of fashion - actually quite the opposite - so finding a reasonably dapper man's shirt in a shade of yellow is almost impossible. Turns out men's shirts here are only available in the usual conservative blacks, blues and greens.

And unfortunately everything else less conventional turned out to be unashamedly tacky... with metal hooks / zippers / rubber implements.

Or it's a yellow golf tee.

Unless I want to dress up as a Taiwanese pop icon ready for the stage or a golf course caddy, I figure I'd better head back home to find a better fit.


Dammit, maybe if it's dark they won't notice it's not exactly yellow.
So to all who are heading home for the reunion, have a Happy Chinese New Year!

One Book Stand

Rather like the infamous one-night-stand which it draws its name from, a one book stand would be a guilty pleasure read - one you hastily flip through in the cover of night and embarassingly hide away in the light of day when everyone's looking!

Or rather the books you savour once and never pick up again forthwith.

Now that I can empathize with. Quite a few literary classics I had to struggle through just to complete - since everyone else insists that it's a must-read. Honestly books are after all a matter of taste; not everyone's going to love James Joyce or Thomas Hardy the exact same way.

For me the trouble usually lies with the protagonist. Spectacularly biased, that's me. Give me a meek, ineffectual wallflower of a heroine who finds herself jostled about by the wicked ambitions of others and I'll immediately lose interest ten pages in. Unless she gets her groove back, or has serious hopes of finding it, in a hurry. Scarlett O'Hara, Anne Shirley, Emma - those are the oddly compelling characters that I revisit again - and again. Knock them down to the ground and they'll rise again to give as good as they get.


Sam Dong *giggle* One of the dreamboats in Dream High
Fortunately Korean drama, which is well known for its fair share of pathetic, hand-wringing, woe-is-me victims, has finally conceived of a heroine that I can root for. The wildly obnoxious, insanely ambitious Go Hye-Mi of Dream High. Think of the drama as a Korean version of Fame / Glee with Hye-Mi as the aspiring underdog.

Though she never actually thinks of herself as one. Hell, she's a bitch even from the start. Sure, Hye-Mi's horribly arrogant with a crappy surly attitude but seriously nothing seems to faze this tenacious diva.

Abandoned by her ne'er-do-well bankrupt father in a house that's been foreclosed with a kid sister? Not a problem, she'll just make a deal with the notorious money lender. Hazed by her classmates and accused of being a thief? No problem, she'll just grab a loudspeaker and challenge them. Set adrift in a foreign country without funds and resources? Not a problem, she'll just sing for her supper. Country boy buddy of hers finds himself going almost deaf? Not a problem, she'll make sure he stands on stage to sing no matter what.

Ain't no challenge big enough for this girl - which is why she frequently butts in to solve problems for everyone else. Admirable in a way since I abhor wimpy whiners who give up before ever trying.


Though shockingly blunt - and almost brusque in her dealings with everyone else, Hye-Mi finds herself a bit deficient when it comes to the more tender affairs of the heart. Keeps her feelings so close to her chest that she comes off as a heartless robot in the beginning. Sentimental sweet nothings from her ertswhile boyfriends ( since there's a love triangle ) only give rise to nervous goosebumps since she finds them far too mushy.

My ISO : Sounds like you're really into this Dream High.
Paul : Loving the main character, Go Hye-Mi.
My ISO : Well that makes sense.
Paul : What makes sense?
My ISO : Fierce, bitchy, loud but emotionally stunted? From what you've told me, it sounds like you.
Paul : WTF.

OMG he's right. Damn my ISO for pointing it out.

Dragon Mane

Since everything is turning brilliant red for the coming festivities, I don't see why I shouldn't join in the fun! It has become quite the yearly tradition for me to colour my hair a couple of weeks before the big day. A celebratory observation that has become far more significant - and timely - with my approaching dotage.

Cue the advent of silver strands.

Horrors. Shrieks. No worries, I don't scream hysterically over every trivial silver strand I find. Probably would turn hoarse if I did so! At the moment I stand by the adage that striking one down would only bring five more to the funeral.

So I turn to hair dyes.


Maybe if I run really fast, she won't catch me!
Of course age, experience and maturity dictates that I stick to the more sedate colours of dishwater brown and blah black. No more electric blues and fiery reds in the near future. Wouldn't want anyone to mistake me for a crazed bleached blond gentleman dealing with a potential mid-life crisis!

At least that's what I presume the head hairstylist means since she practically snatched the bolder colour schemes away from my greedy little hands. Despite having shocking multi-coloured highlights on her own sleek mane, she tends to be a bit more conservative when it comes to me.

Paul : Maybe something red?
Hairstylist : Really ah? So scary wor that colour.
Paul : Think my hair is still black enough that it wouldn't make much of an impact anyhow.
Hairstylist : But doctor wor. Must look a bit professional loh.
Paul : So what would you suggest?
Hairstylist : A bit only la. Maybe dark dark red loh. Like this.
Paul : That's almost black.
Hairstylist : Ya loh!

Oh yes, the hairstylist was a one-time patient of mine. Obviously she doesn't want the shameful ignominy of being under the medical care of someone with improperly dyed hair. There goes my coiffure dreams of finding out if blondes actually have more fun.

After an hour or two of her vigorous efforts, she handed me a mirror with a near flourish. Voilà!

Frankly I was underwhelmed. Silver strands be gone but there's only a trace of red if I tilt my head just so to catch the light. Talk about hiding one's light under a bushel! Damn, I miss my coloured streaks. Maybe I'll nip down to the store for some temporary streaks and tips.

The Sins of the Uncle

Although the hilarious scenes that crop up in situational comedies have been overplayed shamelessly for maximum canned laughter effect, most are still basically grounded in reality.

As in they really happened.

For instance the episode of Brothers and Sisters where the earnest, well-meaning niece enlists the help of her doting uncle with the simple school project? The little girl might have wanted to show how lemons could function as a basic battery and ignite a tiny bulb but the domineering uncle takes over, goes a bit insane and uses hundreds of lemons to power a dancing robot.

Hilarity ensues of course.

Embarassed though I am to admit that I actually did that. And probably would again. Perpetually fed on fallacious bedtime stories of her uncle's legendary academic prowess, Chatty Carmen unwittingly engaged my help with her own school project. Not knowing that my so-called brains are actually a unsubstantiated myth.


Paul : I can help.
Carmen : Should I be worried?
But how could I possibly refuse a little girl? Though any knowledge I ever had of science has slowly slipped through the expanding sinkholes of my memory, I could still lend a helping hand. Though in the process of helping my niece with her school project, I realized I'd make one hell of a crazy kiasu parent one day.

Carmen : My project will explain how capillary action actually works.
Paul : Cool. So the plant will absorb the red coloured water you have there?
Carmen : Yes. Pretty.
Paul : Why not let it absorb different colours at different rates? Have a rainbow coloured stem?
Carmen : Oh.
Paul : And serve celery sticks to the students in different colours.
Carmen : Oh.
Paul : And only cardboard standouts? Why not get flash animation and videos as well to explain? Maybe on tablets?
Carmen : Oh.
Paul : And perhaps have an informative booklet you can hand out to the other students?
Carmen : Oh.
Paul : Make the rest of your classmates rue the day they dared to compete! *evil laugh*

Of course I had far wilder ideas but the sheer astonishment on her face after my villainous laugh was enough to put a stop to my growing lunacy. Turns out Carmen had every good intention of educating her classmates about capillary action. Me, I just wanted to crush the other pathetic pitiful students and make them weep. Oh yeah that's like my new motto.

Kiasu?

Oh yes, I'd want my kids to outmean every other junior bitch in school :)