And The Winner Is…

…Rene, who wrote a really sweet sincere email about what this blog has given her over the years. I loved all the jokes everyone contributed, really I did, but in the end, being told that my blog actually meant something to somebody, and had done for several years, was what gave me the biggest and happiest smile. Sappy but true.

[Original post and competition rules]

So congratulations Rene, and thank you so much to everyone else who gave it a shot. I’m pretty happy with how this competition turned out, so I might try it again in the future if an appropriate giveaway object presents itself.

Till next time, let me leave you with a story:

This guy walks into a pub and half his head is a big orange. He asks for a pint of lager. The bartender says “Excuse me, I couldn’t help noticing, but half your head appears to be a big orange.”

“Yeah, had that for a while now,” the guy says.

So the bartender says “How did that happen, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I was in this old junk shop,” the guy explains, “and I found a lamp. I gave it a rub, and this genie appeared! He offered me the standard three wishes, so for my first wish, I asked for every woman I’d ever meet to fall madly in love with me. The genie waved his genie hands around and suddenly every woman was looking at me with sparkling eyes. For my second wish, I asked for a wallet with a million quid in it, which would never be lost or destroyed, and which would replenish itself whenever I spent any money. And my wish was granted.”

“And the third?” the bartender prompted, leaning forward eagerly.

“And for my third wish,” the guy said, “I said I wanted half my head to be a big orange.”

Stashing Pumpkins

Number two in an occasional series of stunning witticisms I make in conversation which I feel the need to share with the world. This is from last night at Hideout with Dom, Ida and David.

Ida: Remember that pumpkin I stole from ____ bar around Halloween? Well, we went to _____ bar after that and the bartender stole it from me.
Me: You were brandishing the pumpkin while ordering a drink?
Ida: I put it on the counter. So anyway, now every time I go back there he keeps saying, “I’ve got your pumpkin” and flirting with me.
Me: I guess you’re his jack-off-lantern.

I kill myself sometimes.

Coming Across Her Naughty Bits

You know you’re stressed when, while preparing a research document on the passing of property and risk in carriage of goods by sea, you start smiling every time you come across references to “ship’s flange”.

(Non-shipping lawyers: The flange is a part of the ship. Property and risk in goods are often agreed to pass from seller to buyer as they are moved across it in the process of loading.)

(Non-Brits see here for double-meaning.)

You know you’re stressed but bored when the next thing you do is a global search-and-replace of “flange” with “minge”.

You know you’re stressed, bored and playing with fire when the third thing you do is a Google search for “minge” in order to provide another definition for non-Brits, and then break into giggles at the results. I present:

Whatever Froats Your Boat

Dom sent me the photo of the Waraku menu she took when we were there last week, and I think it’s worth sharing.

A selection of froats
Next time I’ll try Calpis.

Text Massaging

While text messaging LT to arrange our outing to The Vagina Monologues in two weeks’ time, I have learned that the first predictive text word option for buttons spelling out “cunts” on my phone is “aunts”. Bless. Less innocently though, the first word for buttons spelling out “cum” is “bum”.

(Original intended message: Will your man be cumming with us or will it just be two cunts and no cock?)

Gulp Friction

I usually have my nose in a book while I’m on the bus, but today on the number 12 I looked up in absolute boredom from Garden State (you know how some authors channel all their great writing into their first book and their following books are never as good? Well, Rick Moody isn’t one of those authors) somewhere just past Kallang MRT and noticed a classy establishment named “BJ Massage”.

Nabeya!

I thought Tamade was a one-off occurrence of a Japanese restaurant here with a name which is a swear word in another language (Mandarin), but today my family had dinner at Nabeya.¹ It appeared that I was either the only one who knew which swear word it sounded like, or the only one puerile enough to be secretly amused by it.

Sample conversation in the run-up to dinner, and I am so not kidding:
My mum: So, where are we going for dinner?
My sister: Nabeya.
My mum: Nabeya?! No, I don’t feel like it. Let’s go somewhere else.
My sister: But I only feel like Nabeya.
Me: Yah, mum, why not? Nothing wrong with Nabeya what.
My mum: Okay, fine then. Nabeya.

¹ Tips as to meaning can be found here and here.

Tourist Twat

They entered the hip new restaurant in the centre of town with fresh tans and designer sunglasses, the picture of a happy young white couple on holiday in the tropics. His T-shirt read “VAGINAMATE”. I guess she likes her men crass.

Modern Mofo

The graffiti on the back of the bus seat read: FAX YOUR MOTHER.

There’s No Scrabble Like Sexy Scrabble

The rules of Sexy Scrabble are that every word you make has to be sexual, or at least suggestive, or as a matter of last resort, of general vulgarity. Approval of words is obviously not obtained by referring to the official Scrabble dictionary, but is solely subject to the opinion of the vile rabble with whom you are playing.

And so it was that we converged on Yish’s house two Saturdays ago to forget that we were actually mature sophisticated well-educated 24-year-olds, and, at least for an evening, to be puerile 17-year-olds again.

The major insight we gained from the experience was that for a good game of Sexy Scrabble, ordinary Scrabble rules must be very liberally interpreted, if applied at all, and the English language must be forced into all manner of compromising positions.

In our first game, adding letters to words already on the board to make some sort of phrase or sentence was permitted. In this way, Yish was permitted to transform DICK into DICKME. My later attempt to make VINDICKME was, however, rejected. My outrage at this was somewhat mollified when my later proposal to adapt MANGA into MANGAZE was accepted. Through a similar process, the slightly more surreal sequence of TWIGGY -> BADTWIGGY -> RIMBADTWIGGY -> PRIMBADTWIGGY -> IMPRIMBADTWIGGY was obtained.

The traditional approach of not revealing your intended words to the other players also gave way in pursuit of the common good. When Jianyi tried to use an A on the board to make JAW, Fay insisted that she needed it for her FANNY. When we all agreed that the presence of FANNY on the board was of vital importance, Jianyi had no choice but to produce JAWSEMEN instead, which was mutated by others later on to INJAWSEMEN and FOULINJAWSEMEN.

In our second game, we decided to try something a little classier. In this spirit, Yish started us off with BEGET, and I followed with AROUSE. This new classy version of sexy Scrabble soon proved to be dead boring and was soon abandoned in favour of transforming LOVER to TOELOVER, and RANDY to ISORANDY to OMISORANDY, which seemed like a good place to call it a night.

our bawdy board