The Gnomes Made Me Do It!

Who are You?

I love taking personality tests.
Personality tests are strange things. Always politically correct, tactful and reassuring. And I almost always know the kind of personality analysis I am going to end up with, but still sit up and go...hmm...interesting... in that forefinger and thumb on chin manner when I read through the results. I think I just like to get told over and over again that my flaws pale in comparison to my strengths and boy do they play up the good! "Yes! You have a 2 inch penis and everybody knows that, but that's ok you make up for it with your wit and can charm the socks off the ladies, so it does'nt matter even if you have a small pecker" I wonder if they'll ever come up with one of those brutally honest, depressing as hell personality tests that will tell me "Josephine, you are an introvert. You are impatient. You will never succeed in life because you are lazy. The best solution for you would be to kill yourself."

Anyway, here's another personality test, because I really do love them. Go on, let them tell you again what a wonderful person you are. Have your egos boosted.
www.bbc.co.uk/science/humanbody/mind/surveys/whatamilike/

Posted by sideshowjo at 10:56 am | Permalink | Comments

My little ohmm utopia is about to become a stinking cesspit of verbal diarrhoea and fake banter. I hate fakeness, I really do.
I think my 6 tragic years in an all girls convent as a loser is the main cause of my aversion to anything unreal and stupid. That and my toxic boyfriend of sorts when I was 16.

I remember slinking away to read my Enid Blyton and Sherlock Holmes. I never knew what Perfect 10 was and thought Gold 90.5 was the coolest station around and there could not be a better song than Total Eclipse Of The Heart. Me and my other low key (I will not tag them as losers, because they are all now very successful and beautiful people, un derserving of such a title) friends would escape to little forgotten corners of our very huge school, (which might I add had a HUGE Father Fucking Barrer statue, an Alligator pond which had baby crocs that were constantly fed play dough, erasers, pencil shavings and other primary school things, creepy wind chimes hanging from EVERY pillar, 1 huge rock garden complete with red wooden bridge and other ridiculous useless shit..all because our principle was a media crazy whore who wanted her botox mug in the papers.) and get lost in our exploration adventures. Our past time would include sitting round belting out Wilson Philips's rendition of Daniel (which incidentally is the same name of above said boyfriend of sorts from secondary school..hmmm) over and over again and coming up with alternate endings for trashy Sweet Valley High shit. I was truly a sad kid.

Rebellion came about when my mother gave me no more attention as my brother sapped the life out of her, literally. He was a hyperactive kid, a real bundle of joy. A true delight to be around, as compared to her morose sulky daughter with a weight problem.

I took my angst out on botox principle. We were forbidden to touch the flowers in her precious rock garden. One recess, I picked her ixora bushes bare, sat under the red wooden bridge and started stringing them together into necklaces and bangles, all in the hopes of peddling the flower chains to stupid girls for recess money (I had to eat packed recess everyday). Of course I was caught, and was made to wear my designs and stand outside her office. A reminder to all that flowers are not meant to be plucked.

I was always reminded of how small and worthless I was in Primary school, surrounded by the cheerleaders, teacher's pets, student leaders... They somehow always went out of their way to make me feel unwanted. I told myself, never again will I be surrounded by trash talking fakes. I learnt that life is cruel at very early age.

Work has remided me the world still is a cruel and plastic place. On the flip side, it has taught me to appreciate people as individuals. It has also taught me to wear my mask proudly, play the game and go home to what's real and genuine. Hold close the genuine few and smile and banter with the rest. Life is indeed a stage.


Slaves to communication


Black and White


How long more?

Posted by sideshowjo at 11:50 am | Permalink | Comments

Sweaty Palms, Heart Palpitations and pain.
I feel like I've been reduced to dirt and am being stepped upon, over and over and over again.
Where do I start...where do I begin.
OUCH
It really hurts.

Posted by sideshowjo at 12:01 am | Permalink | Comments

NaBeh! Bengify your blogs chao ginahs!

Posted by sideshowjo at 10:58 am | Permalink | Comments

The dangerous lives of altar boys

The catholics had to attend mass yesterday, it was a day of obligation, the ascension of the blessed Mother Mary. Nomally, even after much chiding from the mother, my brother and I would miss mass. But, there was no escaping this one, as her Godson Stefano was receiving his first holy communion.

As my brother and I sat in the FIRST pew facing the alter, sweating buckets and listening to the priest belt out pslams in his constant minor pitch, we found ourselves being constantly distracted by the flurry of activity by the altar boys. These altar boys were truly a sight to behold! They were so fidgity and restless, and one of the lead altar boys sitting next to the father during mass had demonic death metal drawn converse shoes on (Don't get me wrong, I am totally for youngsters and Christian rock music, but these shoes had goat's heads and pentograms). They truely stole the limelight from our blessed mother. At one point during the mass, all 10 of them had excused themselves to the back and there was nary an alter boy in sight at the altar. My brother leaned over and whispered "Something's gone seriously wrong back there..." to which I replied "Ya. You should know.". I sat there waiting to see if smoke or screams would eventually make its way front.

As most "good" young catholic boys with excited mothers have had the previlege of being at some point during their young prepuberscent years, my brother too was given this "blessing" by OUR dear mother. It was the Good Catholic thing to do, you see, your son being an altar boy. Now what mummies don't know is that most boys aren't altar boys out of choice. Yet from the outside, the geriatrics sit there and look on lovingly at the promising young boys of tomorrow, proud that God laid his hand upon them and whispered to his chosen flock to come forth aid him in the celebration of his body and blood.

Altar boys should only put on their cassock if they truely feel that they want to partake in the rememberance of Christ, to serve God, and should be done with deep and profound respect, not with inattentiveness and death metal shoes.

Today's picture

Posted by sideshowjo at 11:21 pm | Permalink | Comments

Ask why the world is the way it is, and why people are a certain way, how what when where why. Ask ask ask, the thirst for answers should never been satisfied, for when you stop asking, you stop living.

sonny says:
Like those examples we used to get in philosophy (eg: if you were split into two identitical selves via teletransportation, which one would be the real you?
Josephine says:
What a mind screw!
sonny says:
haha yup. or try this one: if you have a board madeup of x number of planks, and you have to repair it once in while by replacing planks...
sonny says:
and after ten years all the original planks have been replaced, why is it still the same boat?

Posted by sideshowjo at 4:07 pm | Permalink | Comments

Killing me softly...

Ya ok, so the last member in the comms team has left. I am feeling displaced and confused, like I've just lost my security blanket. Looking for other lifeforms on this bleak planet, badgers not counted :)

Kill me

Posted by sideshowjo at 3:53 pm | Permalink | Comments

The teh-teh's are swollen and painful, my stomach is bloated, I'm tired, I'm feeling fat.
I feeling sorry for myself.
Of course after which a series of things will take place in the vain attempt to quell this useless PMS nonsense, whilst going Poot! I am better than these bastard hormones.

I will very naturally:
1) Go shopping- Unfortunately highly impossible this month, as I have to clear a big credit card debt with the "Daddy Bank" after the Ohmm indulgence. So living in mild poverty it is.
2) Dive into rigourous exercise routine to shed pounds- Possible, in progress
3) Wear potato sack top to hide bulge
4) Poke swollen Teh Tehs and curse at sky saying "Why you make me woman?"
5) Mildly abuse Monkey Bastard and ask for Monkey Bastard to perform extra servings of dance for added entertainment

Now I go watch Nip Tuck and continue feeling sorry.

Posted by sideshowjo at 7:06 pm | Permalink | Comments

What's Playing?: Bolero by the London Symphony Orchestra
Are you doing anything productive?: Hell no
How's the weekend looking?: Sluggish start but taking a turn for the better

Being at work on a Saturday has taken the word boredom to a whole new level. It's quiet, the streets are devoid of corporate clones, half the department is on leave for the long weekend, I am cold and hungry.

Meet up with the brissy folks last night for buffet at New Park Hotel. It was awesome! Justin being the glut that he is sources for the best buffets in Singapore. I should be compiling a list very soon. We paid $26 each, thanks to Lynn's UOB card (Seems like their perks are really the best in town!), for unlimited sharksfin soup and other gourmet chinese resturant dishes! It was so much fun and we piled into Dom's car and headed to King Albert for Sundaes. The boys, as Dom just reported, are now out hitting balls in the attempt to work of yesterday's sin.

Catching Charlie and the Chocolate Factory in 2 hours and Dim Sum Dollies tomorrow.
I miss MB.
Bub Bye

PS: What a completely inane entry. Ah Whatever.

Posted by sideshowjo at 12:00 pm | Permalink | Comments

I highly suspect that Vijay knows that I slack off during the usual 10 minute abdominal workout in his class. Twice this week he has come my way to correct my postures and press me down like a rag doll as my muscles spaz and quake like a jackhammer. He then proceeds to smile that knowing smile and say "Yes...trembling is good, trembling is good". Somewhat sadistic.

I can't sleep damnit. Think I'll just go and eat myself sleepy. Yes that's what I'll do.

Posted by sideshowjo at 1:03 am | Permalink | Comments

Today as I stood at the traffic light waiting for the light to tun green, the cars stopped but the man remained red. I could have crossed, but I didn't, because I knew it was wrong. Then I thought to myself, just for fun, if I ever have twins (by some freak accident), I will tell one of them "Ok, Boy, when you see the red man, you can cross." , an watch they mayhem unfold as they both get older. I am morbid like that.

Some pretty pictures

The office girls strike a pose. One of my partners in crime. Badger Hoon, looking gorgeous in her vintage inspired zebra frock with our resident bundle of oozing cutness, Belle.


Obligatory department picture A third of the girls in our dept. The Boss is on my right in the photo. As I put my arm around her waist, it occured to me, that picture taking is one circumstance where personal space is completely invaded by people you do not necessarily like or know, but is acceptable. Another invasion would be lift taking, but that is less acceptable. Anyway, another night.

Bub Bye

Posted by sideshowjo at 11:01 pm | Permalink | Comments