The Triple X Scum

We all know how inviting news have advanced to become when it coincidently embroils what used to be a taboo word – sex (I term this the Triple X Scum).

Sure, all we need is a wandering mind.

Anyway, we’re all aware of the recent (well, not so recent anymore) saga of the unscrupulous sex acts involving that gin gang of crummy men who’re unsurprisingly a mishmash of professionals, educated and uneducated. Such covetous acts of “lust” are so sordid, really, is it that easy to wring a man of his money in an act of reprehensible pleasure?

Just this morning, a British tabloid has published an article of 9 men sexually exploiting juvenile prepubescent girls who’re correspondingly victims leading broken lives. This is abuse in the most malignant in its kind. I mean, really? Really, men are too easy to satisfy!

who'd bed these men, really?

These men who’ve committed malevolent acts of humiliation are classified as Britain’s “sex gangs” – gangs who target girls as young as 13 who’re raised in broken families. Callously, sex gangs have been plaguing in Britain for at least a generation, yet till date, they’re still extant.

I am nauseated and appalled at how women are treated, and how some just go all out to degrade themselves as women. Sex was a taboo word, but these days, even a 5 year old has polished knowledge on it. TV programs, commercials, posters, speeches and daily goings-on have involuntarily taught our younger generations about the sacred act of sex.

I do not blame the West Bengalis in India for transfiguring their land into a prostitution den, because what would you expect uneducated, destitute and dirt poor women to do back there? They’re shunned from society, yet again, they do not have a choice.

Back in Singapore, we’ve got this underage girl (oh yes, I managed to see her full faced portrait without the pixilation) who offered herself to a throng of despairing men who were itchy for sex. This, she had a choice. I don’t believe that there’s 1 uneducated Singaporean existent in this tiny island, much less, a teenager.

Come on, girls, what are you thinking? Do STDs not jolt you? I mean, we all know how dreary and “uncool” it is to be steadfastly revising your curriculums all the time. We all know how expensive Singapore is and it’s not cheap or affordable to even cash out at Pepper Lunch twice a week. But do you let your guard down and belittle yourself by inviting a Tom, Dick or a Harry into your sacred temple?

I wonder what has happened to conscience – where some men and women evidently toss it out of the window and into the open sea. I’m married and am now a mother of 1. I would feel that a man who’d openly crawl up with me is a man who’s dim. Why bother even delving into deeper oceans with someone who’s married, really? Let’s not even talk about underage sex, I’m sure it’s everywhere.

now I can imagine... eeww!

Women, why so cheap?

Men, why so cheaply pleased? 

K can Pop, so can U?

I grew up rubbernecking at awkward boy bands with Backstreet Boys obviously topping my chart, amongst NSYNC, Westlife, 911 and all that league of extraordinary gentleboys.

Duncha' think they WERE HOT ? 

Let’s face it. Songs were so sentimental, quixotic and evocative back then – whatever happened to all that treble cleft oldies that were definitely, GOODIES? Tunefully, the music industry (well at least in Singapore) has regressed (or progressed, to some) into a J/K Pop concord buoyed by madcap obsessive fanatics who’d give up almost everything (their studies, or even having to save up by starving for a month), just to be part of their J/K Pop stars’ concerts.

Simi lai eh?

I find that quite absurd.

Don’t get me wrong though, I’m not slamming J/K Pop, but really, how many fans really understand the translations…oh wait, lyrics are secondary, what am I saying, right?

I’ve been youtubing quite a bit during my free time and I have to admit that I’m stumped by how many plastically perfect Asian pop stars we’ve groomed in Asia – from that single eyelid, tiny featured Asian emblematic, to that picture-perfect doll eyed fair skinned man/ woman standing at 180cm, sporting a harsh hazel crown of glory, topped off with a sharp and raised nose bridge. Don’t get me wrong, Asians are gorgeously perfect in my eyes, but c’mon, some just get too carried away that they forgot they were beautiful in the first place! Who’d believe Korean pop stars were that perfectly complete before going under the knife and all that jazz.

..when it naturally becomes OK for K Pop stars to do such stuff...

2ne1, vehh nice w all that eyeliner

Funny that most song titles are just plain weird, like:

• Chocolate
• Snowy Wish
• Like a Virgin
• I'm the Best

(o_o)

I’m really proud that Asians are actually starting to create a stimulus and break out of that stereotypical thinking that our Western counterparts are much better than us in every way – bull!

However, I’m quite sure we’d be ridiculed at how we still fail to embrace us, being Asians, yet wanting to look, sound and be like the Westerners. Hmm.. maybe its a good form of bonding multi-racially??

Wait a minute. It’s a realistic world where you’d fail if you don’t look up to standard, right?

 I do not own any of the above images, BTW.

Massage in Singapore, Sure!

I’ve always been a huge fan of massages (Thailand spoils you, you know) but I’ve always steered clear from massage centers in Singapore. Firstly, the unreasonably inflated packages deter me from even considering, and secondly, hard-selling. Thank you and no thank you, please give me a break!

Mercifully, I’ve been designated to do a client’s product review of Jean Yip Loft’s services. 

An easy-to-spot building opposite Pearl's Centre 

Jean Yip Loft is a noticeable 7-storey building clad in glass, standing right beside Duxton Plain Park – how very apt and comforting! My first foot into this sanctuary sent me hovering in cloud 9, with that uplifting lemongrass scent that’s oh-so inviting, white-washed interior arrayed with full-length mirrors as well as the vibrant medley of beauty products neatly lined on the mirrored shelves. Instantaneously, I got served by a jolly lass standing behind the oval counter. She got hold of a therapist and sent me ambling down the aisle of massage rooms on level 6 (by the way, the 6^th storey is usually where massages for men are carried out). 

Clinically White

Vibrantly arrayed beauty products

They even sell faux, pretty floral arrangements

In a jiffy, I was stripped and already lying face down on the warm electrical massage bed. With the soothing tunes of nature purring in the air and the warmth of the electrically heated bed, I was already drifting halfway to nirvana.

Massage room for singles

One out of the many factors that sets my massage treatment apart from others is that my therapist didn’t whip up her aroma oils and pounce on me instantly. Instead, she did a body analysis and deduced that my body type best suits a less intensive and averagely-pressured hand-knead. For a moderately pressured massage, I was recommended to go Swedish (oh thank heavens for that!) Truly, I haven’t tried a Swedish massage before and this is certainly my first but definitely not my last!

My therapist had well-controlled hand strength and I could feel my knots untying themselves up with every knead and pound! She slathered the warm massage oil over my back and started gently yet firmly finger-kneading my shoulders and back, up till my neck. Her strokes were consistent and restorative and I felt as if I had a pair of new shoulders at once!

Many a time I’ve been massaged too intensively that my bones feel like they’ve got hairline cracks on them. However, my experience at Jean Yip Loft was very dissimilar as my therapist was often checking with me on the intensity of her kneading – if it was too hard for me.

After massage - what bliss!

I was relishing in every knead and every pound of the 60 minute that it just flew by without me realizing it was time. But enjoyment didn’t just end there! After my revitalizing massage (I swear I felt the lightest), I was ushered to the Lounge at level 2 where it was graced with neatly placed sofas and armchairs housed on spotless marbled floor. I was served a cup of uplifting ginger tea (tasted a bit like lemongrass too) and a bowl of red bean barley dessert. What a perfect ending to my gratifying massage!

Thumbs Up!

By the way, being me, I just had to get a tour of the building – they’ve got a rooftop swimming pool and Jacuzzi, overlooking Chinatown! Beat that! This roof deck is available for rent if you’ve got a private function, hen’s night or a corporate event (so is the lounge at level 2). Each level in the 7-storey building is dedicated to specific treatments (i.e. hair, manicure, couple massage rooms, facial, slimming).

Roof Top pool overlooking Chinatown - for members only

Did you know, White Cafe is operated and run by Jean Yip?

My take to you on my Monday-blues eradicator is that if you’re seeking to pamper yourself in style (so that you don’t have to suffer in the hands of overly-torturous kneading extremists in silence), is to make an appointment to start your pampering expedition at Jean Yip Loft today.

Here's a snapshot of the couple room with milk bath - how intimate!

Recharged, I promise!

NS Men, Ai Si ah, 要死阿?

Each time someone expresses their distresses and torments about the National Service (yes, boys, you’re all guilt-ridden of that), I tend to pretend I’m listening but I’m actually not, though.

When I think about our local NS men, I visualize a tattily clad maid, laden with a burden of grubby and soiled camo haversack perched precariously on that curved spine of hers. Leticia would be her name, carrying ridiculous Boy Boy’s bag pack that tips the scale at thrice that of her own weight.

On top of the whole tragically reenacted Noose sitcom vis-à-vis that doleful maid carrying her employer’s son’s camo bag, along comes another catastrophically netted shot of an NS man sitting duck in the train amidst the throng of commuters, clad in his army overalls.


My first thought upon reading this invasive article is that Singaporeans must be really jaded and bored to delight in overstressing trivial matters such as this. Sure, I haven’t been to the army but I’ve permanently pondered what it’s really like being an NS man, even just for a day. It may be discourteous to get a woman (i.e. maid, grannies, mothers, sisters, girlfriends) to carry your outlandish patterned green camo haversacks – sure, I would agree! But come on, crafting an article to affront this NS man for sitting duck in our cherished SMRT train? Because you never know, he might have had a bottomless gash on both his knees and his ruptured arteries were probably spewing fresh blood from knees to ankles, or he might have been feeling faint from standing after having sat for the entire day during his national service? Yes, pun intended.


Don’t be a critic of this acquitted man’s behavior and comportment before interrogating him first.



Any which way, this NS man had no other space but to sit on the floor, knowing very well that Singaporeans will never give up their seats to the casualties of neediness. I’m just guessing that he probably and desperately needed to take the weight off his feet, hence, his decision to park himself on the floor.


So, Singaporeans, don’t blog or snap photos of oblivious and guiltless fellow-poreans before questioning them about their repulsive conducts and behaviors first, for you never know you might just as well be someone else’s victim who will end up fronting the covers of senseless local news.


(including people who snap violent shots of others refusing to give up their seats to you on the train/ buses)


If you have a need for it, ASK.

Having the blues for life?

There was a recently published article on a University graduate who gratefully embraced her fiancé’s proposal – only that he is a Chicken Rice seller. My first look at their portrait gave me the vibes of exuberance and bliss as they both were pictorially selling chicken rice behind the counter, unruffled. As I scrolled to the end of the article, I couldn’t help but gasp at the sordid thread of nosey parkers who shared their 2 cents worth on the graduate and chicken rice seller’s relationship. Some would pigeonhole this openly, as marrying down.

Sad to say that Singaporeans are molded to believe that we’re a head above others in everything that we do (whether it’s morally acceptable or not, who cares). If a Singaporean were to walk pass a homeless beggar clad in a tatty washed out piece of shorts, our first reaction would be to hold our breaths, give an apprehensible frown and indiscreetly try to weave or “siam” our way around them so that we won’t have to whiff that trace of lingering funky scent if we were to trail behind them.

Put that same Singaporean at a banquet table, graced by a bevy of social figureheads who’re all about facts, numbers and figures. Which cloud would he be on? Probably 12. Picture the same beggar dressed to the nines, carving a herb-infused beef shank off his skillet as the finely sliced piece of auburn and succulent shank gently falls onto your chinaware serving plate. You’d think of him differently because he’s outfitted in an incredibly smart tux. Behind his smile lies a homeless beggar in fraught of not being socially accepted. The difference? Because we judge.

Sure, it’s human nature to spurn and scorn others who’re not as proficient as we are. I’m shamefaced of that and if you’re not, then you’re not human.

However, it has always been a choice at freewill to choose your ultimate soul mate, whether he drives a Maserati/ owns a property in Dubai/ mints gold/ has 4 kids/ is incapable/ survived a bear attack/ is a rag-and-bone man, or whatever. Truth of the matter is simple – it doesn’t matter at all how achieved he is, because love doesn’t lie. Oh yes, it may be slightly different here in Singapore because as I said before, the rebirth of a single income family is simply nonexistent. But really, who are you to despise this graduate from happily marrying her chicken rice stall worker? For all you know, he’s probably the son of a magnate of Indonesia’s chicken farm and he’s probably driving a Lamborghini unlike you.

I’m revolted at how Singaporean’s uncertified columnists and forum contributors responsively attack the happenstance of such a humble and beautiful marriage. In the arms of a prosperous and thriving businessman who drives the fastest, flashiest car in town, you probably can’t soak in the pleasures and beauty of just spending time in the kitchen with your partner/ spring cleaning your house together / laughing at the slightest mistakes you make as a couple… and the list goes on. You’d be treated like a Queen to that simple man of yours.

In the arms of that governing affluent businessman boyfriend of yours, you’re more like his servant. Not to say that all governing men of certain statuses are like that, but a majority of them are, or will be. Just because he brings you to dine in fancy restaurants, buys an LV satchel for you and sends you for manicure and spa sessions isn’t a sign of his honest love declaration for you. Well, my take is that he probably needs to groom you enough to be of standard before showing you off to his clients. Women have long past that stage of reticence, so stand up for yourself if your man is subtly dropping hints to you that makes you feel like the ugliest woman on earth who’d need 10 plastic surgery jobs.

A blue collared worker has always been the pillar of beginnings in Singapore. Who do you think you are, judging the man who’s slogging 24/7 at a construction site with an unventilated plastic helmet strapped as a cap, who’s struggling to earn a living to feed his simply contented family of 8? You know, he’d be the man who brings the bacon home, who’d be welcomed warmly by his wife and kids when he steps foot back home after his hard day of work. This man spends his weekend taking his family out for strolls in the park, for picnics at the gardens and basically every and anything under the sun that doesn’t demand much from his family. He's the man who'd spend time in bed with you, talking about everything under the sun. He's the man who'd be intimate with you, who'd carress you in his weathered arms. 

Opposing, the governing man of prosperity and ego comes back home after his late night sessions without greeting you as he walks through the door. He hassles you at 1am telling you that you didn’t do the laundry properly, or that you forgot to iron his clothes. Sure, he delights you once in a blue moon with LVs, YSLs, Dior and Chanel and sends you for facials and massages at Singapore’s premium spas and massage parlors. He tells you he's tired for intimacy after a hard day of work. He sleeps facing the other side of the bed and someday, physical intimacy fades and disappears. You know, this man hides the whole world away from you. His daily routines, rituals, lifestyle, friends, habits… to him, the lesser the better.

Now think about it, who’s better off than the other?

There’s really no explanation about love. Love is a feeling that’s unexplained in words. I was inspired to craft this article after reading an offensive post by a local blogger whom I’d leave undisclosed.

Singaporeans, it’s time to grow up and out of your shells.

Preschool Boo-Boo!

There has been a major entreaty and backlash concerning the latest preschool fee adjustments in our tiny jail of an island. We really can’t escape from inflation now, can we?  

Being Singaporean, I’ve been involuntarily forced to start Preschool hunting earlier this year, not because I’m Kiasu but living in Singapore purely powers you to get well ahead of the crowd or simply fall out. I refuse to be conquest.

Anyway, Singapore has been molding its citizens to be bookish and cultured but sadly, most of us fall short of even having basic mannerism for the reason that we’ve been forced to do what we didn’t enjoy since we started schooling. Like it or not, we’ve never been granted a choice to choose subjects that are in our favor like cooking, dancing, dressmaking, etc. We were taught that we had to entomb our heads in mind-bogglingly thick A-Math, Chemistry, Humanities, Geography and whatnot of textbooks – it’s also a proven fact that we infrequently apply what we’ve learnt at school in our workplace. Why bother, really?

Singaporeans are left with no choice. Our escape routes are sealed craftily with doors that only open to invite you through them if your parents, well, own a bank? Speaking about living in glitterati and being able-bodied to keep up with the hike in fares everywhere, for everything – how many of us can really cope with this without a scuffle? Fuel, food, electricity, water… now, preschool fees?

Preposterous or what!

News has it that most preschools are plagued with fee hikes of close to 50%. An $800 term now costs over $1k. How can parents cope with this sudden hike in the midst of a school term? Being Singaporean, there’s only 1 solution - to take on an after office jobs like working in a pub or driving a taxi. But really, how well-thought through is this? One moment, we’ve been plastered with pro-family campaigns, family days, “eat dinner with your family” movement and worse still, married couples are pressurized to procreate in support of our baby booming initiative.

Here’s what some Singaporeans have to say about that:

• “Our island still got space meh?”
• “Where got money for another baby? Siao ah?”
• “Babies? No way!”
• “Wah lao! Waste my entire life paying for my house! Where got money for holiday?”
• “CPF? Probably untouchable!”
• “Drive taxi at night, still got time to eat with family meh?”

Forlornly, we Singaporeans are not whiny complain kings or queens. We are forced to complain.

In any case, we are all sane to want to send our kids to the best schools, have the best meals, travel in the best styles – probably only a figment of our imagination in Singapore. Haven’t the committee thought of lower income families who’re struggling to make a living, yet having to raise 5 kids because we’ve been told that more babies = more baby bonus = more money = less struggle? Sure, that’s just a ploy. We probably hit a high of 1 million babies born last year hence, to stop us from procreating, they might have a bright plan of fashioning a blockade to stop proliferation instantaneously.

Desolately, there are people who’d tell me “Then just send your girl to a Government preschool then probably you’d stop thinking that everything is so expensive!” Sure, that’s an option but no, it’s not a solution.

My purpose of ranting about hikes in everything within such short bursts of time is just to reiterate that Singaporeans are not non-baby lovers, neither are we sore thumbs who’d just sit and complain about things, we’re not loser-fied school dropouts, we’re also lousy workers who’re “yes men”.

• Singaporeans are not non-baby lovers

Explanation: Our approach toward procreation is that the more babies you have, the more you’d spend. Baby bonuses are impractical. Sure, they’re good to have but no, they don’t help much. Outrageous preschool fee hikes, school bus fare hikes… yikes! Who wants babies?

• Singaporeans are not sore thumbs who’d just sit and complain

We’ve tried petitions, we’ve tried writing into forums, and we’ve tried strikes years ago. Trust me, who’d dare voice their opinions anymore when all that’ll happen is to see ourselves confined behind bars?

• Singaporeans are not loser-fied school dropouts

Yes, some of us may be smarter than others, may have gone to elite schools and SAP schools. This doesn’t make us any smarter than our neighbourhood school-goers or our ITE mates. Since we were kids going to school unseeingly, we never had an option to choose our favourite subjects to pursue. I’ve always wanted to be a Veterinarian but I never got the chance to because I was simply not given an opportunity. Many a time, a “lousy” school-goer is termed “lousy” because he/she fails her English, Maths and Sciences but if given an option to choose what he/she favors, like cooking, pottery, dancing at mainstream level, we might already have groomed a truckload of aspiring Food Network chefs and Voyage de la Vie acrobats. SOTA – Forget it! I mean mainstream academia that’s offered in mainstream classrooms!

• Singaporeans are not lousy workers who’re “yes men”

Because a single income family is simply non-existent in this millennium, everybody trots off to work with a fear of losing our jobs one fine day. Sure, we’re not the happiest servants and employees but we sometimes have to (well, most of the time) pretend to be contented with our jobs. I’ve been a very vocal employee since I started working 5 years ago and I was often telling my bosses what would work and what wouldn’t. Ever since my daughter was born, I kind of took a step back in being to argumentative and vocal with my boss for the fear that I might lose my job one day. This is a boundary for me to better prove my worth in the company (sure, it’s a no-no), but I came to realize that Singaporean bosses are hardly receptive to new ideas, so what the heck, in case I lose my job and fail to support my family as the 2nd income earner.

Singapore – where life overwhelms you with too many goodies. 

Fact Buster 1: Uniquely Unlivable and Unbelievably Singapore!

I have been bidding to keep myself abreast on the most forbidding local news for my picking and mocking.

Today, I found one.

An 86 year old man who cheated a housewife of $250 was reported. He is now being jailed for 7 months. Uniquely unlivable? Unbelievable!

Come on, an offence is an offence but don’t we Singaporeans practice litheness and empathy toward our aged population? First things first, whose fault is it to wring that $250 transaction? Is it the 86 year old man’s culpability for dreadfully needing that money so gravely to upkeep himself, or is it the housewife’s boo-boo to have obliviously loaned that $250 to the 86 year old based on the grounds of trust she had in him that “He then requested the money from her after he claimed that he would help her and had engaged a lawyer on her behalf”

I mean, common sensibly?

Picture this. You are having a leisure stroll with your Mongrel leashed onto your belt buckle, one arm clutching your provisions which are sleeping comfortably in your Sheng Siong bag, your Bonia wallet snugged under your arm, with your square handkerchief tucked under your beige bra strap. Alas! A man approaches you and starts picking up a conversation (who cares even if he’s 86 years of age anyway!) Amidst your tête-à-tête, you start cursing your husband (who’s probably talking behind your back too), complaining about your crabby kids (what about them having ants in their pants?), and painting a satirical portrait of your darkened life. Then, a glimmer of hope appears.

The 86 year old man who had been patiently and unwearyingly waiting for you to find your full stop has finally opened his wise mouth. “Young one (oh yes, he’s a sacarstic-aporean), I have a solution. All I need is $250 to free you from your worries! I’ll find you the best lawyer to settle your domestic dispute!”

Would you trust this 86 year old that happened to chance upon you? Would you have given him that $250? Are lawyers that cheap to hire anyway? Ah, this old man is probably phony – as what most of us sane-poreans would feel and think.

Story has unfolded. Whose fault is it?

Singapore has evolved into an island that is solely reclaimed for jetsetters who live their lives in glitterati. Not for you and me. With such an unbelievably inflated and bloated cost of living (none of the inflation actually justifies to me anyway), who wouldn’t be forced to attempt a hand at extortion? Shakedowns and confinement behind the reformatory probably makes more sense – it’s free what!

Hmm, maybe the old man had a plan. 

Hitching an SMRT ride? Think thrice.

The defamation of SMRT has been extensively published in almost any and everyone’s social medium that it is almost close to being a social joke embraced in Singapore from the first SMRT train breakdown, till today.

The globalized capitalist city of Singapore has never really been pruned to be of world class standards, at least not in my modest opinion.

A train wait of 4 minutes during peak hour and 7 minutes during off peak hours seem adequately tolerable. In Hong Kong, no train takes more than 3 minutes to arrive, regardless of the hours. Anyway, I thought Singaporeans are all Kiasu, so even service providers should be likewise or more Kiasu than the citizens since everything, everyone in almost everywhere are all rushing for what seems like the Great Singapore Sale everyday.

This morning, I took my leisurely stroll to the MRT station. Much to my SMRT horror, the platform was brimmed with teems of commuters, fanning themselves with flyers (or other aesthetic items that they had in their bags like a cigarette box or their afternoon’s meeting notes that seem to be disintegrating with creases and tears with every fanning motion). Nevermind that, commuters were eagerly squashing themselves well in front of that menacing and distressing yellow line, as if balloting a suicidal attempt along the SMRT line.

I stood back and waited for the train to arrive while observing the passionately Kiasu Singaporean crowd in action. After 10 minutes of waiting in vain, people started giving each other deadly stares and most were impatiently elbowing the ones beside them with every lift of their forearm to look at their wristwatches. If I had videoed their motions, I’m sure my video would’ve been the next big hit of the SMRT chicken dance wave.

After 15 minutes of waiting in vain, I started getting frenzied and piqued. When the train arrived alas, it was thriven with commuters like that of wild grass in Mongolia. Not an inch of spare space, not even for an anorexic (if there was one around, that is!) Moreover, I was boarding from Pasir Ris. SMRT, tsk.

No choice, everyone else who didn’t manage to cuddle themselves in the train carriages had to fall back in line, still well ahead of the yellow line. This time around, who cared if they fall into the tracks? So long as they had a peace of mind that they’d be the next in line to board the train was all that mattered.

After a good 20 minutes of train wait (it was indeed the longest 20 minute in my life ever), I managed to board the train, which was still awfully packed with throngs of Simei, Bedok and Tampines neighbours.

The train wait was over. Period. The journey itself, to get to Paya Lebar, was almost like we were riding a mule in a triathlon. The abrupt harsh and chancy brakes coupled with some episodes of buttery smooth lapses sent us all throwing ourselves around (and I poke a heel in a sturdy man’s leather shoe for this).

Such changeable and erratic service providers. Let’s not even mention our non-nationals who go around rampaging into bystanders or pedestrians. Yes, rampaging INTO, where people actually die from this.

Anyhow, I still haven’t found a better embargo against SMRT and a petition for such a monopoly would probably never transpire.

I have a better plan.

Andy... Who?

I can’t contain my exhilaration any longer and my heart was factually palpitating with vehemence when I stole a 5-second peek at a commuter’s TODAY advertisement on Andy Warhol’s exhibition at ArtScience Museum!

How cool can it get?

The last of Andy Warhol’s exhibition I was at, almost 5 years ago at a Sotheby’s Auction event in Hong Kong, left me crying buckets of paint and rainbows as I gaped at the wonders of his eccentric art pieces. I love eccentrics, in case you don’t know.

Andy Warhol was a leading figure in pop art, a visual art movement, with famous pieces like Marilyn Monroe, Mickey Mouse, Mao, Beatles, The Last Supper and a whole luggage-full of nothing but exquisiteness in all his other etcetera’s.

His “15 Minutes Eternal” exhibition starts tomorrow (17th March – 12th Aug, 2012) at the ArtScience Museum in Marina Bay Sands. An entrant charge of $13 per adult applies and of course, I’d like to bring Amber and she goes in for FREE!

Mao

Tell me really, how can you NOT like him?

Kinderspielzeug Panda

I just can’t wait! 

Oh btw, thanks to a friend, I've got a Free media invitation!