Charlie

Why Charlie and the Chocolate Factory Is In Fact A Bollywood Movie

  1. There are dance sequences.
  2. There are as many dance sequences in the movie as a Bollywood film.
  3. The people (or rather, person) in the dance sequences are the same people all throughout, and they’re lip synching.
  4. Dr Wilbur Wonka is such a typically Indian father. “No son of mine shall be a chocolatier..” But Willy, the quiet kid with a repressed talent, chooses to follow his heart, to devastating effect.
  5. Even the Oompa-Loompa is Indian, played by the actor, Deep Roy. He plays all the Oompa-Loompas in the movie. (Cue for Good Gracious Me-esque: “Superman is Indian – only in India does a man have to have two jobs! Clerk and superhero!”)

Why the Chocolate Factory Visit Take Place In America
The most litigious people in the world would have a field day, what with children falling into chocolate rivers and turning into blueberries. Willy Wonka Inc. would have to settle so many suits, but all Mr Depp can say to that will be, “You’re all mumbling, I’m afraid I don’t understand you.”.

Best Line Ever In A Movie So Far
Willy Wonka: “During my semi-annual hair cut… [I realised I need].. a hair.”

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Train Over Alor Setar

Cramped together with you in the lower bunk, I was an intruder in your space. Yet with the curtains drawn, that our backpacks occupied the same space I was supposed to, didn’t loook any bit out of place. Your lips on my cheeks, at first still, deliberating and pondering – jolted as the train jolted – transforming into the figure of one full-fledged kiss. Full-bodied and luscious, as your lips always seem to be. And in that space designed for one, we cruised through northern Malaysia. As with many nights before this one, I’ve found myself restless while half asleep; my fiddling fingers find yours, which firmly lock them in place. And only then do I sleep soundly, as a child assured.

If first class is designed with comfort and exclusivity in mind, second class is meant to provide the illusions of semi-privacy and comfort. With the curtains drawn over our berth it is still bright, the makciks outside still speaking loudly way beyond their bedtime. We huddle together not unlike dizzy schoolgirls beyond their curfew. Everything you say makes me giggle, and everything we do causes my heart to warm.

We lay still holding each other like that first time you grabbed me in Arab Street, tightly and uncompromising. I lay still feeling the shape of my longing taking root, tracing the outline of your hand and its imprint on mine.

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‘Cuse Me, Thai People Say You Gay

How about it – a mere seven nights on this island, this little slice of paradise I took a coach, a train, 2 minibuses, and a boat to get to – and the guide on my Munchies Boat Trip tour comes to me as we’re walking from the Thansadet waterfall back to our boat:

“Excoose mee lady, I hear Thai people say.. heeeheeehee… I hear Thai people say to me, you are her girlfriend, she is your boyfren. Izzit? Not my fault, not I say! The other Thai peeple say!!”

Cue for me to act as if I have no idea what he is talking about, and insist – “but she is not a boy!” At this point David turns to us, incredulous, wondering how we could have inspired rumours from what little time we’ve had here.

In other news, everybody smokes pot (especially while swimming in the waterfall – but I’m so uptight and so SingaporeanI can’t even litter here, much less..), and we didn’t make it to the Half Moon Party, after missing the Full Moon Party, and the Black Moon party isn’t here yet..

Catching the night boat to Surat Thani, then a train to Kuala Lumpur from Hat Yai tomorrow. I love islands – especially Thai islands – but there’s only so much of sun, beach, drink, and sunburnt and drunk Caucasians that I can take. I’ve been on far too many boats in recent days – evidently, I am not a water person. Water scares me; I gave up on swimming somewhere between learning to trap water and learning the breaststroke. I don’t trust myself in water and my idea of hell is to have to swim continuously across a pool.. width-wise, and I’m terrified whenever I can’t feel concrete or sand when I place my feet down. Something about having beefy men for lifeguards scarred me as a child, and I knew then I would never want to swim so well as to have too much to do with them, or swim so badly I need their rescue. I remember thinking it’s so fucked up, why can’t I have hot women saving me?, then again I’ll try to drown too many times – we’ll talk about this in therapy next time.

But I have a capsize routine. Meticulously planned and mentally rehearsed a thousand times over in my head, perfected as we snorkelled in the rain. You would too, if you’ve seen the boats I’ve been on. My capsize routine is, you might say, fairly ambitious; it requires that in the split second of detecting trouble, I retain the calmness of mind to pull out ziplocks from the depths of my backpacks, into which I will place my ‘perishables’ (cameras, laptop, iPod); then inflating a little boat on which I can float my stuff. Failing which, I would simply flail about in the water, holding my precious ones above my head – even if I can’t really swim.

Clearly, I don’t have the right priorities in life.

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Windows Vista

Before I go, can I just say – Longhorn’s new name is Windows Vista? Haha haha. “Clear, Confident, Connected: Bringing clarity to your world”. Ahem.

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Classiest Way To Quit Your Job

Take a cue from my mother – try to print your resignation letter from the printer at work, not succeed at that, and leave it as such. Stroll into work the next morning to see your boss holding three copies of your resignation letter, plus whatever he/she had tried to print.

Aiyah, I forgot how to use Windows already mah. So stupid one. They should buy Macs.”

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