Money!

Watched Europe's Richest People on Discovery Travel and Living just now and there was this Indian guy talking about wanting to be a billionaire by the time he turns 40. He's in his mid-30s now and already worth a cool $60 million Euros and according to his company’s latest records, it won't be long before he reaches his dreams.

But there was something he said that really interests me. I'm not going to quote him because latest checks on my super limited memory bank only showed yapping Englishmen and Angelina Jolie clad in a racy leather number before I switched off the tv but he did say something like:-

"We always talked about earning millions or in my case, owning expensive cars and beautiful houses, then we wake up and go to work for those guys who happen to be earning millions and own expensive cars and beautiful houses. Wouldn't you rather be the one having all that? We all are born with the same opportunities."

Fine, it does not have the same effect but I don't have $60 million bucks in the bank so fcuk it.

But seriously, he did make a point didn't he? Ok, minus the born-rich; ie: Paris Hilton, pass-down-rich; ie: youngest billionaire was a 22-yr old prince who inherited 1.8 billion Euros and the lucky rich; ie: TOTO winners - we have the self-made rich; Google founders got 5.7 billion after selling their shares and most recently the YouTube lads who got a billion bucks each I think for doing the same.

These dudes got where they are from a sudden stroke of genius and buckets of sweat and blood. Ok, maybe without the blood. But these self-makers got where they are from sheer hard work Rich Indian dude said.

Hmm.

Hard work?

"Sounds inspiring!" My mind thought.

"Change the channel" My body argued.

Apart from the obvious reluctance for my body to cooperate, I noticed something really unique about those young billionaires.

The internet.

Ok, I know I'm abit backdated to be talking about this but allow me to repeat: People are making a whole lotta money from the World Wide Web man. Indecent amounts of it.

"So why don't you stop looking for porn you perverted bastard and start making money!" Again my mind thought.

"Right..." Body giggled.

Well so much for the internet.

I'm sorry, there's nothing better than coming home after work to eat your home-cooked dinner and after catching up with some soccer on the tellie, you've got the whole world's worth of porn greeting you on the monitor. Bliss.

(I think by now some of you would be thinking why not make your million and then bed any pretty ass you see on the street? Yala...good idea come to think of it...but NO...SHHh...STOP it. You ah...Bb can read my mind you know!)

And ya, I forgot to put in some facts about Rich Indian dude. And some about me if you don't mind.

Rich Indian dude VS…Dude:-

• Earned his 1st million when he was 17. I owed M1 $400 in unpaid bills.
• Drives a Bentley Continental now. I ride a Toyota Crown occasionally.
• Buying a Rolls Royce Phantom soon. I'm short 2 bucks for my next pack of smokes.
• In the process of buying London's most expensive house. Approx: 25 mil Euros. I would probably settle for a shack if the plumbing's good.
• Current investment turnovers: 800 million Euros/annum. He's a Venture Capitalist (ooooooooooohh...). I get minus the 6 zeros at the back on a bad month. In SG dollars.
• Owns a handphone (but of course). Me too. *declaring proudly*
• Has a furry face. A lot of great minds have them. Something to do with being busy. A goatee counts too. *smile*
• Wears $3000 suits. I don't because it's just too hot here in Singapore. Nothing to do with price. Honest.
• Got interviewed for Europe's Richest People. I got interviewed for post-match comments after Italy won the World Cup. Never released; God bless CNA.
• Single. I have Bb.

So let me wrap up this entry. You see, apart from being Mr Big Shot driving his big shiny car, living in his 4 swimming pool mansion with investments in almost every form of enterprise known to man, I'm sure he is just one sad, unsatisfied bugger. Cos I win hands down.

I've got Bb.

Life is Winderful...sometimes.

I've got a bit of time on me hands so y not a spot of writing to perk up the ole knobby aye? Just watched Layer Cake, again, can't help meself wit duh slang if ya noe wa' eye meen?

Roite, back to business. Writing, yes, been thinking about this particular tale for quite some time now. And since I got myself the lappy, I'd rather type on it than on my ash-crusted keyboard. I ought to get a new keyboard. And a webcam. God knows how much Bb wants to see me in motion.

Yeah, sorry, I'm digressing again. My tale:-

Andy's Collection of Pseudo-Complete Stories #02

You know how boys love to talk about life during their NS times don't you? Girls do. They know it so well they listen and try to understand everytime their blokes blab about 'em.

You've got no freakin' idea what goes on behind those walls do you?

Just like how army brats try to explain how bad it is to live in a forest (maybe not those in S'pore, but think of...exotic Thailand or oriental Taiwan.) for a week to the ex-polizei or our hose-carrying counterparts.

They just won't get it. Cos how the hell does one live in a forest?

Rather unsightly if I should say so myself. If I had a dollar for every time I've heard, "Ni kalau mak aku nampak aku macam gini, meleleh air mata dia tau." I'd be quite well-off now.

But I'm not sharing that particular tale, my friends. Instead, this happened in the safe sanctuary that is my camp.

~

The unit had finished training in Paradiso Mandai and everyone's itching to get back (literally), even the officers. After the eventful 5-day stay in our not-so-dense tropical jungle, everybody could not wait for the last bit of routine before lights off that Friday night.

After inspecting the last of my men's weapons, I decided to do some last minute checking on their equipment. You can never tell what very tired soldiers would do to get away from equipment maintenance. But never to disappoint their Section Commander, all the lads did their jobs.

I almost felt bad questioning their integrity, but a leader does what he has to do. And that is to check, ensure and check again.

"Lights off in 30mins. Make sure everyone bathes and be up by 0530 for breakfast," said Sgt Andy, giving the last few instructions.

"There'll be a Unit 5BX at 0700 so...come on, don't act stunned ok? I know you're all tired, I'm tired, everyone's tired. You know your CO right? Just make sure your area cleaning is done before that. Fall-in in PT attire by 0645. And yeah, book-out is at 1000hrs. You can smile now."

And smile he did as he began passing down the information. Sgt Andy would not supervise them. He doesn't need to. Leaving at 1000hrs tomorrow is as good a motivation as any other to guarantee a job well done. Why the hell not when the book-out time is the earliest we'd ever been given.

"So where the fuck is it?! Do you think I told everyone to check their fucking equipment every fucking time is to fucking train my vocal chords?! Do I look like a fucking singer?! Do I?! And why the FUCK did you not tell me this before I report to the RQ ? Or before we left the training site? Why now? So what do you expect me to do now? Hold my fucking balls and hope your shit appears?! Huh?"

The roar was all too familiar. I knew it was going all too well. The unfortunate victim this time happened to be the old bird of the company. Our company medic. He happened to be my CSM's favourite target board. ORD-ing in 6months (compared to us, we had a year more to go) but still doing his job like a freakin' noob. Fucking blur I tell you. Always missing this and that. Everytime. And everyone has to clean his shit for him. Serves him right this time.

"And what the fuck are you all looking at? If I see anymore faces outside, or lights still on by the time I count to five, I'll make sure you're all ready for another insertion tomorrow morning!"

I didn't realize it but everyone had been looking at my CSM screaming his ball off. We were like spectators in an arena. But every good thing comes to an end sooner or later and no sooner than my Encik had said, "...morning!..." Every head bobbed down and every bunk was dark.

It's not that we're scared of him, we're just terrified of the little devil. No taller than my chest, he is but all muscle. Already in his late 30s, he can swim 100m with 1 arm before I could reach 25 with both.

And nobody messes with Little Master (Master being his nickname. He has it sown on his jungle-hat you see. On account of his cute size, I had to add in the Little part). What he says, he means. And courting the devil's wrath is never a good thing.

We know too well because we didn't think he'd have the balls to do whatever he had said but he'd ever made us stay in camp for 1 extra night when the rest of the unit booked out the day before. We did not do our area cleaning properly (according to his beyond-humanlike standards) and when the Sgts tried to negotiate that there wouldn't be food indented for us if we stayed; being the resourceful master that he is, out came the combat rations.

Now, staying-in when everyone else gets to book-out is already unpleasant. But staying back in the company of combat rations? That's offensive!

We were not going to let that happen again. Ever.

Those who finished bathing had to crawl to get back to their bunks because Little Master (@ LM) does not want to see heads popping up above the parapet or outside the bunks. The rest who hadn't had to bathe in the dark. And the silence, my god, here we are grown men, whispering to each other like little girls trying to pass down information or instructions for the next day. Even the Sgts were not spared!

It took quite some time before LM finally made his way to his own bunk. A block just behind ours. And I waited for him to do just that before walking to the showers. No way am I going to duck-walk my tired ass to the toilet. Safer to ensure the coast is clear before displaying my rebellious side.

I took my time in the loo. I had not shit for 3 whole days and God only knows if I'd shat a diamond with all that squeezing and straining. And let me tell you, imagine the most vulgar smell you'd ever tasted and multiply that by your age. That's halfway where you'd be if you're in a toilet with up to 5-day-old excrements that had just seen the light of day. From about 20 smelly men. In only 3 toilets. If I had lit a fag (which I did anyway. Carefully tho.) I was afraid the methane built up might blow up my ass.

But my ass's too caked with mud and grime that the flames would've felt like a nasty fart anyway.

Its almost 2am by the time I walked proudly back to bunk clad in only a towel. Everyone was asleep by then and I could take my time to do whatever I wanted before sleep took me in.

Called Bb up and chatted with her for awhile at the staircase beside my bunk. Listening to her voice always made me want to run out from the gates whenever book-out time. I was stubbing my cigarette out when I heard a soft moan coming from above.

Now, any sane boy would quickly move his ass back to the safety of his bed and immediately snuggle up under the sheets after hearing moans in the staircase in the middle of the night. Moans and sniffles in an army camp at night is never a good combination. Screams and shouts, yes, but never moans.

But I didn't cower like a wuss, because the voice wasn't girly nor was it scary. In fact it made me curious. Why? Who the hell knows. I made my way upstairs towards the sounds.

As I came up to the fist landing, I saw amidst the low light (the staircase landing lights were off - thanks to LM nobody wanted to take any risks) a small stream of water down the side of the staircase. Probably someone cleaning their shit. Must get the boys to dry this off tomorrow; I made a note to myself.

By this time the sounds became more human and I heard feet shuffling from two flights up. I took two steps at a go to quicken my pace. It didn't take long before a familiar figure took shape.

It was BC medic. My Blur Cock company medic. The dude was crying his balls off in nothing but his underwear with a half-empty bottle of Johnny Walkers set beside his feet and a bag, which I can almost tell to be his medical supplies, to his side. And he must have pissed himself silly cos everywhere's wet.

The Cock is drunk! Hah! He must be crying from all that scolding he got from LM. Freakin wuss, I thought. We're lucky LM didn't make us go back to Mandai and look for his shit. I shook my head and almost climbed down when I noticed that he did not even notice I was there. Pretty odd when I am pretty sure he could hear me coming up. The least that inconsiderate dick could do was lift his head up and see who's coming?

His cries were muffled as he hid his face underneath his folded arms which rested on his bent knees. But one arm was hanging out. As if begging for alms. And what was that sticking out behind his elbow?

It was then as I took a closer look that everything became clearer. Cock had conveniently used his IVs to draw blood from the back of his elbows. And that water I had first noticed on the side of the staircase was his blood! Flowed from 3 flights up!

I took a closer look at my feet and confirmed my observations. This guy had been here for quite some time now trying to drain his life away. And boy was it a lot of life flowing from the dude.

Cock looked up and his eyes met mine. I froze. His face was ghastly white. With his face smeared in mucus, and blood and who knows what else, he started to wail louder; upturned lips mumbling something I could not make out.

He began displaying his bloodied elbows and tried squeezing his biceps. This guy wants it to end quick. The pain must be getting to him, with alcohol or not.

I gained back my composure and called out to him, "BC, what are you trying to do?" I tried sounding assuring and calming but the nickname was a dead giveaway and I almost broke into a smiled thinking how ironic my sentence must have sounded without the abbreviation.

But I sincerely wanted to help and as much as I hate him, I couldn't just leave him there. I must reach his frequency. I took my seat to his right.

"You ok not? Why you do such thing?" The answers were freakin apparent by now but I had to get him to talk. To calm himself down and speak sensibly.

"Everyone hates me Sarge, EVERYONE! Especially Encik!Even my girlfriend hates me. She just leave me because she cannot wait anymore. I want to die, Sarge. Please let me die. I promise her that if she go I will kill myself." BC explained in between more sniffling and tears.

I choked back a spit. I could now smell the blood and it was starting to get to me. I also started to feel a bit guilty hearing those words straight from the man himself.

"Ok, you have to calm down. Think about it. You must love that girl a lot right? If you are gone, how are you going to win her heart back?" I was amazed at where those words came from. Moving the bottle of whisky aside, I shuffled closer and put an arm on his shoulder. I looked at him like any concerned parent would.

He started to cry even more. Maybe I was getting some sense into the suicidal prick? This is good I thought, he still has some sense left in that loopy head of his.

Trying to console him further I said, "BC, I have to bring you to a doctor ok?"

"No! wait he...wait he...send me to DB. NO! I rather die than go jail!"

"Don't worry, I will help you. I will say that you are under a lot of stress. They will understand la. Don't worry k BC? I help you ok? You wait awhile."

Before he could answer, I got up and cimbed down the stairs to my bunk. Time to get reinforcements.

Waking up my other 3 bunkmates, I summarized what happened the past 5 minutes as quickly as I could and told them to just keep him calm while I get hold of the big-tiny man himself.

Little Master. He needs to know first and foremost.

It didn't take very long for him to open his door and his ever-piercing eyes made my 6ft frame look all of 6 inches. But he must have realized that for me to wake him up so late at night must be of some urgency. I quickly told him of BC's last supper with the IV needles and Johnny Walker.

LM told me to tell BC to meet him downstairs immediately. For a second there I almost told him that that would be a very bad idea considering the tongue-lashing he did on BC a few hours before and that he had played a part in BC's late rendezvous with the Reaper. But who was I to argue eh?

So I scrambled back up my block to meet the awkwardly-sleepy-counsellors on the 3rd floor. They managed to get BC to speak more calmly now. And I laid down the news as softly as I can.

Incredibly, BC did not even bat an eyelid. He knew it was coming. He knew we had to tell someone on top fast and he also knew who that someone was.

I brought him to the toilet to clean his wounds. We were halfway done when we heard LM shouting for BC.

"Corporal BC...come down now!" LM was loud for us to hear but not enough to wake everyone up.

Good job I thought, last thing we need is for the rest of the boys to see this.

I accompanied BC to LM and quickly excused myself. I wasn't running away, but I knew there was some major cleaning up to do. And my bunkmates were already armed with buckets and mops by the time I joined them.

Last I heard of BC was that he was transferred to HQ to serve out the rest of his days in NS. As a clerk. I never knew what LM and BC talked about that night. I didn't bother because as far as I was concerned, I believed I did my part. As a person as well as a soldier. As for LM, despite what happened, he was never one to disappoint cos he never did change his hard old-skool military ways.

Life is fragile. Even more so the mind.

I sometimes wondered what would happen if I had just ignored BC and left him there all by himself. Would he die? Would it be my fault? And best of all - Would I feel guilty about it?

The choices you make determine where you are right now. But for some some, it may determine others.

I'm tired of porn!

Kinda lost my motivation to blog. Not that nothing ever happens to me but its like, I don’t know, I'm just, argh. Maybe I don't have someone around to tell me how irritating or exaggerated (life without drama: mite as well rilek sorang2 main congkak.) my stories can be.

Bb left. From what I hear, she's putting herself up quite nicely over there. Been adapting well and having her friends around do help. She's eating appropriately too. Appropriate for a junk-food junkie that is.

Stop it with the KFC and pick a cookbook dear? And let's not be too cocky with the sini-ada-Dunkin-Donuts-you-takda ok? 2 words: kacang pool.

Then again I remembered a conversation I had with your mom yesterday. She said you're least likely among your siblings to cook a dish. No wait - start the stove. I'm serious; she joked in between my interrupting her with my laughter. And dead fish freak you out right? Ok, I will stop now.

No news about any cheap hats for me though but I did get an sms about a S$500 sweater she spotted a few days back. And the skirt. And the shades. And boots. And God knows whatever else she might have left out whilst ignoring every possible form of inexpensive headgear she could have come across if not for the 4-digit price tags that seemed to be screaming for her utmost attention. It's ok, I know I'm constantly in your thoughts.

(Taking this photo was weird cos it's hard to hold that pose and secondly, I didn't realize my bro was beside me holding the hardest laugh ever. He is still unaware of my cache of his ridiculous sleeping positions. Laugh sumore? And B, notice the thingy on my head? Yeah, take note.)

Pardon my Singaporean behaviour but I shouldn't be complaining, really. Bb had already got me CK Crave before she flew off and was very thoughtful to get a friend to smuggle (strategically concealed under her panties no less. I called them Kinky Fags.) two packs of smokes from my all-time favourite store: DFS.

So currently I'm spending a lot of time with my friends or at home. I try not to go out much cos I do have to wait for Bb to go online. And when she doesn't, it can be quite frustrating.

It sucks being alone ok! Like kentalz gilz babz seh. How do singles survive sia? Its not even a month and I’m already wearing out my left wrist! Must...stop...gaming! (don't worry, whatever you were thinking is true too. I've reached a whole new level of horny.)

This is so 40 days and 40 nights. The only difference is that Josh Hartnet ain't got nothing on me. As the above pic clearly shows. And no, I will not use a flower in any way other than as a gift or for decorations. Period.

Unfortunately, I have not got the chance to meet Bb online for a few days now. Been going out with the guys a lot and somehow the meetings are like therapy. I still laugh at the crap we unfailingly conjure up but there will be the odd times where a song or the long ride home from the east makes me wonder where's that familiar shoulder leaning on my chest.

One of the lads made a cruel joke at ChinaOne last night. They took a pic of me posing with one of my arms holding an imaginary Bb. I gamely spiced it up by adding a pout. Hardly amusing considering the empty chair I had for company that evening. Nobody sat there cos they declared it Bb's.

And the guys do find it weird seeing me come and go all by myself. They usually expect Bb hiding behind the fatty mass that is Fandy.

We did joke about me putting up an ad for a part-time/temporary/contract basis/freelance Teman-tapi-takkan-mesra-pasal-nanti-Bb-mara:-

1. Candidates must be fluent in English or Malay.
2. Ability to cook and hold interesting conversations or crack jokes would be an added advantage.
3. Fairly pleasant personality and appearance as one cannot take a stroll with an "unfinished bridge".
4. Candidates who do not understand the above expression MUST NOT apply. Consider yourself disqualified under reasons of looking horrid.
5. Candidates should possess a class 3 licence and/or own vehicle.
6. 5-day work week but must be able to perform OT, ad-hoc duties as and when required.
7. Only successful applicants will be notified via email or sms within 1 week. Those who fail, please take note of point number 4.
   

~

Guess wat??? I just video-chatted with bb! Heh..and my mom saw her too. wic was kinda cool until I had to explain to her like 7 times that it was her in real-time.

" Ini dia? Iyer? Skarang? Tak keje?" *smiling*

It was a good thing the connection wasn't stable so we cut the chat short.

But I have to go skool now. And I'm really late. Hope to see my Bb later tonight but the lads are already SMS-ing! HOW?

Love conquers all baybeh!

Miss that girl...