Round Peg in Square Hole

Hard to speak of my new workplace since I still feel like a round peg. Always been one.

In a workplace that's perfectly made for squares. Circumstances ( i.e. work ) have made me conform as best I might to the dimensions of a square peg which is how I've assimilated myself into the nameless crowd of physicians. Praying hard that I don't stick out like a sore thumb in a medical collective that prides itself on regimented uniformity.

With the occasional release.

Otherwise I'd probably go certifiably insane.

Back in my pressure-cooker medical school, I always had what I termed my Wild Wednesdays where I could get away from the rest of the studious clones and break loose with my then boyfriend, my ISO. Classes ended early on those days usually before lunchtime which left me with half a day to fool around. Ah, those good old days of wine, men and... well not song since we both weren't much into karaoke anyway.


Boxed in!
Once I started working however, the few chances I had to release that pressure dwindled tremendously. Fortunately I still found kindred spirits around to help me goof off - but I realized that my psychotic breaks were coming along closer together as time went by. After all I needed a viable outlet for all my pent-up wackiness.

For the past two months, it has been steadily getting worse. Same workplace woes, I'm afraid - only multiplied tenfold possibly. Not only am I suddenly ( unwillingly! ) thrust into the company of a relentless battalion of square Gungho Ginnys ( Gannys and Gunnys! ), I seem to be the only round peg around! If you haven't heard about Ginny, she's one of the rare breed of medical students that thrive on textbooks, exams and working overtime! Hell these are folks who take their off days as an opportunity to hit the libraries and talk about medical journals.

Lemme borrow a recent example - something heard while I was rushing home from work.

Ginny : Sitting around like this is so unproductive! We should talk about the recent advances in medical science. Tell me, what did you study last night?
Genny : Oh, the latest British Medical Journal publication of course. What about you, Paul?
Paul : I read Cleo. Does that count?
Gunny : You read that? But that's shallow, sophomoric drivel. You should cultivate -
Paul : Up yours.

Starting to wonder whether they have surprise pop quizzes for fun on the weekends!

It's all good for them. All the best.

Just wish I didn't have to be part of that group :) Such relentless obsession with work would only drive me up the wall - and possibly end with me rashly indulging in a mindless orgy of crazed entertainment! Hence the need for the occasional psychotic break I mentioned.

Like today, I felt like snogging the surgeon just to get a shocking rise out of the Gungho Ginnys around ( between sticking my tongue out and flapping hands behind my ears ). Why? I couldn't say. I'm always that horny but he wasn't that cute. I just felt like it.

Sometimes it's hard to be square for so long.

Red Badge of Courage

Remember me saying that girls were an exotic rare breed way back in my all boys school?

Speaking along that vein, the Girl Guides were pretty much in the same endangered species category - at least from our point of view! - being cloistered behind the high walls of the convent only to be seen on the rare occasion such as jamborees and campfires. During the campfire dances, I spoke to them only to exchange pleasantries since I was far too busy minding the complicated steps ( while trying my best not to ogle some of the cuter boy scouts from the other troops ).


Boy Scouts out adventuring for their badge
So I always assumed that the Guiders were female equivalents of the scouts not knowing that they actually had certain traditions of their own. Though it does seem kinda lame now, we were all pretty proud of our badges back then - placing them proudly on our sleeves. But in place of our own merit badges such as First Aid and Hiking, it seems as if the Guiders had their own womanly pursuits to discover. According to Shameless Shalom, Needlewoman for instance requires sewing / embroidering an item of clothing while Childcare insists on thoroughly dousing an infant with soap and water.

You can imagine the astonished look on my face! Seems like the girls were given adequate training to be genteel ladyfolk tending to house, hearth and spinning wheel. Not that I find those tasks at all displeasing - hence my ambition to be a househusband.

Of course I immediately relayed this shockingly sexist piece of news to my ISO when I bumped into him online the next day.

My ISO : You're kidding me, right? Shalom wasn't a girl guide back in the 1800s?
Paul : Pray she was pulling my leg! I almost expected a badge for Charwoman, Washerwoman and Society Debutante as well.
My ISO : So while we were out conquering the wilderness, the girls were tending to the fire?
Paul : Don't forget knitting booties for the babies.

Makes you wonder what new badges they should make up for the modern day Gossip Girls of today.

Social Climber Badge
Attended three society parties ( without an alias ) in a month. Hosted one A-list event.

Catfighting Badge
Public verbal disagreement with a fellow student. As an additional proficiency, ties in to the next three badges further down. Extra points for physical throwdowns ( i.e. hardened bitchslaps and hairpulling ).

Adulteress Badge
Being the raison d'etre for the split of a committed couple of at least six months duration.

Gossip Central Badge
Implicate an enemy in a scandal and disseminate the news in the space of a week. Gossip should spread to at least three different guiding companies in the same town.

Skank Badge
Bagged three guys in a week. Extra points for bagging brothers / best friends.

I know. We're both really awful. :) But to proof that we're not total misogynist pigs, we're supposed to get back and think of more badges for gay scouts instead. Gay merit badges anyone? Hairstylist Badge? Circuit Queen Badge? Fashionista Badge?

Waiting Room

It's been so long since I've been on a date that I've forgotten exactly what that entails. Date with a girl, I mean.

Being a gay man, I've found myself relatively immune to the debilitating effects of dating women. Had a few experimental dates way back in high school when I was still vacillating whether I actually was a raging homosexual. Pity the poor girls I dated since I must have seemed the most awful, bumbling clown ever.


Waiting.
Knowing their innate foibles, I used to give the girls a half hour's grace to get ready. But quite obvious I must have blocked out that entire sophomoric experience of dating - since I totally forgot how long a girl takes to get ready for a night on the town.

Especially a girl like Lissome Lorelei :)

Paul : Hey, are you about ready yet? I'm getting my shoes.
Lorelei : Wait. I just got out of bed.

Paul : Should be getting out by now.
Lorelei : I just finished bathing. I'm putting on body lotion!

Paul : Lorelei? Should I wait downstairs?
Lorelei : Looking for my eyeliner! Gosh, where's my lipstick!

Paul : You're down! I'll get the car.
Lorelei : OMG. My shoes don't match. Lemme change.

Obviously it takes time to transform into a glorious swan! :) Takes close to an hour actually - though it seemed like forever while I was waiting there at the door impatiently knocking.

Certainly a downside to dating a woman. Gotta pity those poor straight slobs.

Don't get me wrong. Gay boys can be rather tardy when they're busy primping at the mirror flexing their muscles as well. And let's not get into their obsession with getting that perfectly tousled - yet ruthlessly arranged! - hair. Fortunately not all of us are into men make-up yet ( though I have my suspicions! ) so the waiting time's sliced just that hairsbreadth shorter.

All except me of course. Being a bad gay man - meaning somewhat a slob, I usually spend only seconds on my hair ( evidently! ) and maybe a quick glance at the hall mirror to make sure my shirt's not sticking out the back before stumbling out of the house.

The White Knight

If you haven't figured it out from the title, spoilers abound here so if you haven't caught the Bat, go pay Gotham City a visit first.

Is there any doubt that I'd watch the Dark Knight? It's the Bat - and I've been a fan of the billionaire playboy turned night-time crime vigilante since forever. Well, ever since I got my first Detective Comics as a kid. The movie picks up just some time after the end of Batman Begins and it features two of his most memorable villains, the Joker and Two-Face.

Frankly I've never been much of a fan of the psychopathic Joker - sheer evil for insanity's sake isn't my cup of tea. Much prefer a more methodical, calculated villain rather than an unpredictable lunatic in clown make-up. I know the critics all raved about the wildly cackling ( far more sinister! ) Joker as Heath Ledger's swan-song - and yes, he did it amazingly well - but has anyone even taken a look at Two-Face?

Now to take Harvey Dent, that doomed role of the White Knight we all know will disintegrate into disfigurement and madness - and then make him look oh-so-deserving of sympathy, now that's a hat-trick! And Aaron Eckhart does it beautifully.

Good boys gone bad have always been a weakness of mine.

Of course even having Harvey Dent and Bruce Wayne fighting over the girl could not have made the sole female character any more memorable. Really, is anyone surprised that the girl died? Come on, Rachel Dawes practically had the bull's eye sign painted on her forehead marking her as a helpless victim ever since the first movie - and her sheer lack of charisma made it nearly impossible to sympathize even when she was blown up to smithereens. Zero chemistry between her and the two men in her lives - possibly the reason why the Joker saw it expedient to be rid of her.


Call me, Batman!
Ask me out for dinner dammit.
Hell, the Dark Knight had more chemistry with the White Knight!

Even in Rachel's last scene - sadly forgettable - being tied up with explosives and oil tanks, it was hard to dredge up even a shred of sympathy.

Paul : Is that supposed to be pitiable?
Sarah : Die already!
KABOOM!!!
Paul : Finally.

Still I felt cheated by not getting at least one shirtless eye candy scene. Damn. The least Christian Bale could do as Bruce Wayne was to take a shower! Three hunks in a movie and barely a hairy pec in view?

Good Boy Gone Bad

Toss a Bible back in my old schooldays and chances are you'd hit an altar boy quite easily. Those prim, proper, preppy boys who travelled in an orderly flock, quoted bible verses by heart while steering clear of the notorious black sheep around ( coming close only to deliver the obligatory holier-than-thou sermons! ). Me, I usually turned a deaf ear to continue on my unholy course.

'Course there were a few I wouldn't have minded taking a tumble with behind the church organs. After all like the proverbial apple in the garden, the forbidden is always deliciously seductive - and I've never been all that great at resisting dark impulses.

Given time, the endangered breed of altar boys soon found themselves assaulted on all sides with sinful temptations of wine, women and song leading them astray. Hence the slow but steady extinction as age ( and devilry ) catches up with them. Of course there are a couple who seem to have been left behind in the seminaries as everyone else goes out to play.


Good Boys Gone Bad!
Seems like I've found the last one at my workplace.

A true babe in the manger. An untainted altar boy newly escaped from the claustrophobic confines of the cloisters for a night out on the town ( and despite the fact that it was his hometown, desperately needed a holy GPS tracker to get him around ). I didn't know they still had one of these in the city! Seems like it was my duty ( along with my pagan compatriots Statuesque Sarah and Fabulous Fiona ) to bedevil him.

Jesus, it was an almost impossible task to tempt Pious Peter. He said no to drink. He said no to women - even after Sarah completed the dance of the seven veils. He said no to song - not a karaoke fan and possibly condemning such a sleazy den of iniquity. Our celibate saint here said no to every one of the seven sins!

Peter : Let us pray to the Lord.
Paul : OMG.

I bet that was what St Paul said way back as well.

But during a pregnant pause, Peter accidentally slipped ( slip of the devil? ) that he had fallen from grace once before. Obviously we all three literally pounced on that juicy item. And when we finally had him confessing to us - after forcing a single drop of margarita down his throat, all we actually got out of him was a story of Peter hiking up the mountain to retrieve the lost commandments with his newly anointed apostles.

Far from titillating - and this was after Fiona and I had already recounted our endless litany of sins. But that doesn't mean we're giving up on our wicked mission.

Seriously. Next to this innocent lil fella Peter, I feel deliciously stained. A corrupting evil influence leading a good sheep astray.

Who the hell knew it could feel so good.