Disclaimer:

If you are a guy who plays Heroes of Might and Magic V, you might not want to continue reading as there are spoilers.
If you are a guy who does not play Heroes of Might and Magic V, you can read on and have a laugh. You should buy the game and start playing it too.
If you are a lady who does not play Heroes of Might and Magic V, you should read on since the storyline is befitting of a sappy television drama and probably entertaining.
If you are a lady who plays Heroes of Might and Magic V, you are probably lying.

It true, women are dumb, evil and cannot be trusted. At least that is the message the scriptwriters of Heroes Of Might and Magic V are sending out. As if copying the Warcraft III storyline was not bad enough, the two female characters in the storyline implicitly suggests that someone or some people at Nival Interactive has issues with the opposite sex.

A brief outline before I delve into the storyline, there are six campaigns, each containing five stages. Not only is the difficulty level rather high, the various stages are very time consuming, some requiring more than ten hours to get past. Horrendous storyline aside, perhaps the game designers could have done more to speed it up, as I foresee multiplayer games lasting for a few hours.

The female protagonist, Isabel, resembles Kate Beckinsale in Underworld with a dash of Cameron Diaz. The demons have launched an invasion and she witnessed the death of her husband, Arthas, sorry, I mean Nicolai at the end of the first campaign (Haven). Anyway, the Inferno hero, Agreal, is in love with Isabel but he killed her husband at the end of the first campaign, probably not the best way to win her affection. As if to atone for his sins, he abandoned the demons and attempts to save the world. Meanwhile, in the third campaign, Isabel is somehow convinced by Markal, a Necromancer, that he can bring her husband back to life. How dumb is that? In the course of it all, she ruined her empire and waged wars with two others. Predictably, Arthas, I mean Nicolai, is devoid of any warmth when he is resurrected. No ouple lives on happily ever after?ending. This is followed by the Dungeon campaign and at the end of it, I was left wondering, what the hell does this chap called Realag have to do with all this, apart from being smitten with Isabel and wanting to save her? Realag is accompanied by a heroine, Shadya. The fifth campaign (Sylvan), was all about a hero, Findan, who has just been tasked with saving the world by his late king. In addition, it is revealed that Isabel has been cursed by the demon lord to bear the first half-human, half-demon child who will rule both realms. The storyline moved much faster in the final campaign (Academy), the four factions joined forces against the demons. Just when you think Shadya is assisting to save the world with the rest, the game slaps you in the face and she transforms into a succubus, bringing Isabel along with her to where the demons reside. Of course, upon the completion of the last stage, the demon lord is defeated. It is also belatedly disclosed that Realag is Agreal without the Inferno armour. However, just when you think Isabel has been cured and the world is safe again, the final cinematic shows Isabel herself turning to the dark side.

To summarize gender roles in the game, four out of the six men in the game were busy saving the world. As for the two women, one drove three kingdoms to ruin with her stupidity and another turned out to be the trusted assistant of the big baddie. I guess someone or some people at Nival Interactive had one snub too many.

Lectures are littered by students chattering in foreign tongues, quite a foreign experience in Singapore. School feels like the University of Jakarta, instead of the Singapore Institute of Management since Singaporeans constitute less than twenty percent of my course cohort and the bulk comprises of Indonesians. The only explanation for the dearth of local students I can think of is that all of us have neither a diploma nor full “A” level certificate. In addition, the programme managers conduct admission interviews, which was unexpected. I guess they wanted to weed out potential dropouts, maybe SIM is not all about money after all. Then again, those who are turned away from the University of London course are referred to a course run by SIM itself. Maybe SIM really is all about money after all.

Anyway, after much observation, I have come to the conclusion that kiasuism is not confined to Singaporeans. It is possible that kiasuism is limited to Singapore, but it certainly afflicts other nationalities. The attendance register is passed around during lectures and we are to mark our attendance by leaving our signature on it. If the lecturer remembers it only during the intermission, hordes of students would surge forward in the direction of the blue plastic file. On one occasion, it ended up on the floor in the fracas and students ended up kneeling on the floor to indicate their attendance before someone with a level head placed it on the table. It was reminiscent of football played by primary school kids, where everyone chases the ball around, hoping for a kick. It would be a miracle if it survived the month, I commented. True enough, part of it was ripped out by some inconsiderate bastard and both halves made their way separately around the lecture theatre last Friday. All this while, most of us bemused local students could not understand the commotion, since the attendance register certainly did not possess wings or legs, there was no prize for being the first few to sign the register, no free gifts of limited stock, no huge discounts as it was free to begin with and it would not self-destruct after certain period of time.

What next? Foreign students picking up Singlish or cursing like ah bengs and ah lians? Now that would be interesting, it certainly would not be easy to deliver them with the oomph that local ah bengs and ah lians can.

I turn twenty-three today and I am headed for a friend’s birthday party instead. And he was not even born on the first of September.

I’m screwed, I did the wrong readings for both my essays due on Monday… Argh!

If men wrote advice columns

Q: My husband wants to have a threesome with me and my best friend.

A: Obviously your husband cannot get enough of you! Knowing that there is only one of you he can only settle for the next best thing your best friend. Far from being an issue, this can bring you closer together. Why not get some of your old college roommates involved too? If you are still apprehensive, maybe you should let him be with your friends without you. If you’re still not sure then just perform oral sex on him and cook him a nice meal while you think about it.

Q: My husband continually asks me to perform oral sex on him.

A: Do it. Semen can help you lose weight and gives a great glow to your skin. Interestingly, men know this. His offer to allow you to perform oral sex on him is totally selfless. This shows he loves you. The best thing to do is to thank him by performing it twice a day; then cook him a nice meal.

Q: My husband has too many nights out with the boys

A: This is perfectly natural behavior and it should be encouraged. The Man is a hunter and he needs to prove his prowess with other men. A night out chasing young single girls is a great stress relief and can foster a more peaceful and relaxing home. Remember, nothing can rekindle your relationship better than the man being away for a day or two (it’s a great time to clean the house, too)! Just look at how emotional and happy he is when he returns to his stable home. The best thing to do when he gets home is for you and your best friend to perform oral sex on him. Then cook him a nice meal.

Q: My husband doesn’t know where my clitoris is.

A: Your clitoris is of no concern to your husband. If you must mess with it, do it in your own time or ask your best friend to help. You may wish to videotape yourself while doing this, and present it to your husband as a birthday gift. To ease your selfish guilt, perform oral sex on him and cook him a delicious meal.

Q: My husband is uninterested in foreplay.

A: You are a bad person for bringing it up and should seek sensitivity training. Foreplay to a man is very stressful and time consuming. Sex should be available to your husband on demand with no pesky requests for foreplay. What this means is that you do not love your man as much as you should; He should never have to work to get you in the mood. Stop being so selfish! Perhaps you can make it up to him by performing oral sex and cooking him a nice meal.

Q: My husband always has an orgasm then rolls over and goes to sleep without giving me one.

A: I’m not sure I understand the problem. Perhaps you’ve forgotten to cook him a nice meal.

The National Day parade reminds me of nothing but marching and I hate marching, since I am poor at it. Marching reminds me of National Service, as much I would like to stay away from blogging about National Service, it was the only period in my life that I had to march. More specifically, it was only during basic training that I had to march.

From the very first day we enlisted, they tried to instill the importance of marching into us. Those who experienced uniformed groups in secondary school had a rather seamless transition. Others who were part of clubs or sports, like me, had more difficulty adjusting. Blessed with height, I naturally had to be the right marker, which I viewed as a curse. The right marker is placed at the top left corner of the squad (when marching) and the rest are supposed to take their bearings from him. I struggled to catch the timing of the marching, of being out of sync. Badminton, football or bowling rhythm no problem, but marching tempo no sire. It helped that those positioned around me were au fait with marching, they would silently prompt me to skip a step to get back into the groove.

Just a month after familiarising myself with marching, we had to learn our drills for the passing out parade. In between, I thanked my lucky stars that my squad was not chosen for the Police Day parade display. The passing out parade drills were quite a bother, with rifles added into the mix. As if I was not having enough trouble with the drills, one fine practice, the commander announced that the best trainee of each squad had to perform a separate routine for the presentation of the plaques and certificates and I almost fainted. As much as the trainer complained about my slamming of the foot (supposed to produce a loud bang), I got the procedure correct. There was an indoor ceremony too, in case of rain and that was less complicated than the parade. As fate would have it, there was a downpour on the actual day and we proceeded to plan B. There were no hitches and that also signaled the end of a chapter in my life.

Before I forget, happy belated birthday Singapore!

I lazily grabbed it by its cap and that was not exactly a wise decision as the bottle slid off and clumsily rumbled off the table. I instinctively stuck out a foot and immediately withdrew it, mindful of Santiago Canizares’ mishap in 2002. He was due to feature between the posts for Spain in 2002 World Cup until he dropped a bottle of aftershave on his foot and suffered cuts so severe that he had to withdraw from the squad. I braced myself for the inevitable but to my astonishment the bottle hit the floor with a dull thud and appeared intact without any cracks. It must have been a combination of the thick glass and parquet flooring that saved me from being overwhelmed by the scent for the next few days.

The nozzle cap did come off though but I put it back on and attempted a few squirts. No vapour was spewed. I took a closer look and noticed that the tube connecting the liquid and the nozzle had fallen off. My efforts to remove the nozzle were fruitless and I remembered reading that the nozzle is supposed to be screwed on very tightly to prevent the fragrance from evaporating. I wondered if it would have been better if a fracture or two occured since my pigsty of a room would at least smell better for a few days. I then reasoned that it should still be able to function if I turned it upside down and I was proven right. It is a little awkward but I should not complain, since the last time this happened quite a bit of glass shattered.

And the bottle really is half full.

Dammit, my alcohol tolerance level is too high for my liking. I would rather be sound asleep than blogging four hours after binging on a jug of vodka orange and two beers. It was supposed to be a bash for my school, but by the looks of it, I guess it was a party organised by external people for various groups. There was supposed to be no one else from my OG interested, but all that changed after we were crowned the best OG.

The queue was obscenely long to begin with, I wonder if they took a leaf out of MOS’ book, lest we forget, their general manager was fired for employing this tactic. I could not believe that the first level did not serve any alcoholic drinks and that made me irritable so I gathered a few people and headed to the second level. Simple equation at clubs: hot chicks + alcohol + cigarettes + dancing = fun. It seems like an unwritten rule that everytime one goes clubbing with a group of people he/she does not know that well, someone will get drunk on relatively and this was no exception as our female OGL KOed after half a jug of vodka orange. The highlight of the night was the fight that broke out on level one. Some poor chap had his ass handed to him on a platter by a tough guy who dished out a few lefts and rights and even landed a boot or two for good measure. Everyone thought he would cap it all when he dragged a metal chair over but it turned out that he just placed it in from of his victim and sat there taunting.

The dance floor was absolutely packed and felt like an oven. I bailed after a while and gorged on Mee Goreng and Hor Fun before heading back to send the girls home. What the hell? Why do the stalls at Gluttons’ Bay close so early? Really disappointing but that was not the only disappointment for the night…

I have at least three ideas with which to pen this entry. However, I do not think it possible to fit in all that I want to talk about in any single approach. Hence, I have taken the easy way out and chosen to lump everything together in one disjointed mess.

One major factor why people attend freshmen camps is to add fun into their university lives. I suppose the most “happening” students attend camps, so it is natural that others follow suit. Another reason would be to meet members of the opposite sex. No one would admit this, but I can see this written all of some campers’ faces, especially those who are very passive and hardly involve themselves. Speaking of members of the opposite sex, just like any other social event, a camp needs a good deal of girls. The first camp lacked just that, as only twenty percent of the campers were female.

Someone ought to let some guys know that nobody gives a shit how influential they were or their superiors were during National Service. Unless you had generals at your fingertips, it really does not matter. Talking about NS to break the ice is fine, but do not dwell on it for too long. Cut the ego talk, if you want to impress people, have a million dollars in your bank account or own a BMW 3-Series or look like Edison Chen or be a world champion.

“Good people become Orientation Group Leaders (OGLs) while bad people become Game Masters (GMs).” said my OGL. I think this mainly concerns the forfeits, since GMs mete out punishments and OGLs usually get dragged down together with their OGs. Everyone loves free entertainment, it pays if you are willing to make a fool of yourself. I took off my shirt twice, did two pole-dances and a Para-Para dance alone for the first camp. Thankfully I kept a lower profile and was spared for the second camp.

Get plenty of sleep the night before the camp, more fun equates to less sleep at camps. People do not go for camps to sleep, period. Unfortunately, for the second camp, the other guys in my OG went to bed before midnight.

The games played were rather common (and I bumped into someone at Orchard), nothing much to talk about except for the captain’s ball played with a raw chicken and one where we had to pass worms from spoon to spoon held by our mouths. I heard that last year’s chicken was actually marinated, so I guess we were fortunate that they left out the spices this year. And the worms, I spilled a spoonful of them after the greedy fella ahead of me, who wanted to pass me the last two worms on his spoon, accidently flicked his spoon a little to hard.

I guess it is inevitable that university camps have an element of matchmaking in them. The first camp had Angels & Mortals. Everyone had an Angel and a Mortal but only the Angels knew who their Mortals were. Hence, the Angels were supposed to anonymously communicate with their Mortals, like buying a gift or two (normally food or drinks) or writing notes. When all was revealed, everyone gave business-like handshakes, I was different and hugged my Mortal (heh heh). After all was revealed, I noticed my good friend, who I got to know at the camp, sitting beside her. He then pulled me outside and told me to keep a secret. I almost fell into the pool when he confessed that my Mortal is his girlfriend. They certainly hid it well, since I do not remember seeing any contact between them even though we were in the same bungalow. She also later told me that she had originally drawn me as her Mortal. Freaky set of coincidences. As for the second camp, we had a phone conversation with our Secret Pal on the first night, I managed to figure out that she was my buddy’s sister and that was the end of it (one in eighty odds). She was relieved and so was I, the romantic event the next night became much more passable.

I still feel that I missed out something and I know just what it is. I would badly like to attend a sports camp. There was hardly any physical activity, apart from the hours of walking (Amazing Race, Treasure Hunt, etc) but I consider that way too light. I would have liked some jogging, badminton or football. There was a tennis camp, but I am not interested in picking up another sport and I am very disappointed that there is no badminton club.

I guess that will be all for now, I hope I did not leave out anything. Will post pictures if I come across any.