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Thursday 12 June 2014

On World Cup and Reunions


World Cup


This World Cup season is perhaps the only time we wouldn't be labelled as unpatriotic fools donning other countries' colours with matching face-paint, especially where there are money to be made in betting the right team. We would just be called fools waking up at 3am (Singapore time) watching millionaires prancing at half-completed stadiums in a third-world country. The only legitimate thing to do at 3am is to pee, then go back to sleep.
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I would like to join a non-government, non-profit organisation that will have global impact with their wealth of history and enrich my life. The closest I can find is soccer body FIFA. Rather than a wealth of history, it has a wealth of $1billion in reserve; and rather than enrich my life, it sure can enrich my bank account since countries will clamour to wine and dine me to clinch their rights to host the next World Cup. And it definitely has global impact milking from the millions who made Soccer their religion. The Beautiful Game is played by men in suits at boardrooms and corridors of power, with the winners determined even before the ball is kicked on the pitch. Where do I sign up?

More musings on soccer:
http://winstonchongsingapore.blogspot.sg/2014/02/musings-on-soccer-english-game-not.html

 

Reunions


It was great to meet up with my ex-colleagues for tea where most of the alumni brought their kids along. I don't think I'm ready to be a father when one mother used the same words to her toddler as how my wife would to me: "Sit properly!", "Don't talk with your mouth full!", "Stop crying!"
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A balloon is cute and cheery and yet an former university classmate whom I've not met in 10 years inflicted me with much pain and sorrow by using it as a verb on me. So now I've resolved not to attend anymore school reunions. And if you are one of those who have lost touch, yes, that was NOT me that you saw on the street the other day. And yes, now I hate balloons.
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Muffin is one of the most-loved pastry and I would be delighted to be associated with any words related to it like stud-muffin. So naturally I'm ecstatic when someone mentioned that I'm a great muffin top since it s the tastiest part with the crunchy crust and toppings.
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A close colleague mentioned that at a ripe old age of 40, I'm no longer a spring chicken. While I agree I may not possess the heaven-may-care youthful exuberance, I hope that this old rooster would have gained much worldliness and perseverance that rival the proverbial cockroach that refuse to die.



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