Prickly Softee

Concoction: A cup of McDonald's sundae without topping, expensive (apparently of grade D17 or something to that extent) tub of fresh durian from Malaysia
Where: A pavilion at West Coast Park
When: After work on a Monday night
Reviewer's frame of mind : Chummy

The Taste Test
For an idea that was spawned from the odd juxtaposition of childhood memories, unbearable ennui and bon vivant palate (not necessarily in that order), the end product came together very well, much to the surprise and delight of this reviewer's associates (sounds more impressive than merely saying colleagues eh? And in order to visualise the look on their faces, please refer to how the gourmands react on Japan Hour). After spending a considerable time walking from McDonald's to the pavilion and scraping off the durian flesh with a plastic spoon, the vanilla ice cream has melted suitably for the generous amount of durian shreds to blend in effortlessly (To visualise the how it tasted like, please refer to the fireworks in Ratatouille). Best served with self-depreciating humour. Update: Pictures in Max's blog

簡單愛 (Hypothesis #4)

Today, I tackle a question that has troubled Greek philosophers, Indian love gurus, Japanese pimps and Singaporean marriage counsellors since the dawn of civilisation; How does a man - amongst the hordes of women (horny or otherwise) - find and determine the one he truly loves?

Sure, many of you 'gentlemen' would proclaim that it was her wonderful personality that captured your heart. Some of us who are more honest with ourselves boil it down to a certain physical trait - eyes, smile, legs, butt, and last but not least (in fact mostly), boobs.

Of course, I am not discounting the importance of the above-mentioned attributes when choosing a mate (I’m not sure if personality is important in bed, as preliminary tests have proved inconclusive… I'll publish my findings when I receive grants for/from more research subjects), but these probably just make you attracted to a woman. You don't love her just like that.

Therefore, I hereby present what may be the simplest yet most ingenious (it has to be, in order to befit this intellectual discourse) imagery to help u identify THE one (Okayyy, you can have many, I'm not judging you).

So, let's imagine a wide open field (whatever vegetation is on the field is up to personal preference but slightly browned 2-inch tall grass probably provides the best effect). Then imagine a fluff ball of a kitten sitting right in the middle of the field looking forlornly at you (again, the breed of the kitten is entirely up to you but I would go for the common grey/brown striped with white belly variety which can usually be found loitering around coffeshops). Complete the picture with a sheet of torrential rain enveloping the field (ya, just ordinary rain would do, don't think too much). Got it?

If you feel that the girl you like is akin to the kitten in the rain, then you'll probably grow to love her. If not, too bad for her.

Freudians are bound to say that this imagery is a poor excuse for a sexual metaphor, but they probably came up with the entire psychoanalytical mambo jumbo to compensate for their butt-ugliness.

As for how a woman determines a guy she loves, it’s much simpler as women are less complicated creatures; she just looks at his bank balance.