Nancy Drew Is Out For A Break And Will Return Shortly

It has been an eventful week, not least because moi has met up with a couple of very interesting people, both young and old.

But before I delve into all that, let me start off with what I ran into at a stadium plus a couple of other stuff.

A Fumigation Of A Story
The clouds burst before I headed out for this stadium. It was a wet, grey and misty late morning. When I arrived, there was all this smog smogging the place and it wasn't coming from the rain.

Some pest buster was at work fumigating the whole place. You could smell the distinct petroleum flavor a mile away and the smog lingers, well after all the fumigation.

I could see a couple of dead roaches while a few had crawled out of their hiding holes.

What went through my mind was if the spray was healthy for humans to inhale. Let alone, the lingering effects on our skin and so on.

I mean it killed the roaches but was the stadium the right place even for a fumigation. Yes, let us fumigate but what are we targeting at? Roaches or rodents or humans? Which is of the greater harm to mankind, anyway. Oops, did you just think what I think we all are thinking?

Shouldn't food establishments be more the places to fumigate? And if fumigation is carried out at such places, are sprays safe? Can we use safer alternatives like poison pellets or something?

I hope someone has the answers right away.

A Beautiful Bottle Tree Park
Yes,it is a beautiful privately owned park alright if not for that unmistakable dung smell of the fertilisers nearby which makes it a regular farm actually.

But the fruit trees were really rotting away and laying idle. There were a galore of jackfruit and rambutan trees but the harvest were slowly laying rotten on the ground or in the waters and the public cannot access them because of a moat.

What a waste! And they locked up the shower facilities too at the open-air rest-room which was so beautifully made out!

Pathetic that they actually need to have life-size tiger and bullock carts displays, much like the cardboard cut-outs of the cows that graze the greens in some parts of our island.

Hey, Don't Shoot Me! I Am One Of You, I Am The Good Guy, Remember
Gosh, I am not even spared at this fifth stadium I was at. The airplanes were here as well. I swear that a helicopter stopped dead in its tracks and hovered just a short distance away from me. So I waved at it.

Like would they shoot at a waving fan? I don't think so.

They are tracking me all right. I mean, hey, aren't our mobile phones with their GPRS network already in themselves tracking guides? What more with our mobile computers? The only thing my Norton Anti-virus scan has turned up so far has always been a tracking cookie.

Scary isn't it? But hey, I know God is up there protecting moi. Right God?

*Looks around but don't see a thing. Sigh! Oh well! At least I know someone is looking out for moi. Right?

Why Is He Doing This? Beats Me. He Is Another Psycho?
This isn't the first time Galen had brought home someone. The last occasion was an older and bronzed tanned dude who seems to look like someone out in the sun a lot and it isn't for sports.

Yesterday however it was a young dude, someone almost looking like a school kid.

The first tell-tale sign was the pair of white and red Adidas sneakers out in the hallway. When I entered my bathroom, there was spit in the toilet bowl and I knew someone had used it.

Because Vegetable Farm (since the Mandarin here is in hanyu pinyin and without the strokes of tone, it could also mean Retrenched of course) has been kind to me that night, I was up all night surfing away on my notebook.

So when I heard Galen's door opening and closing, I got out to check and lo and behold, this dude walked out of my bathroom with a mug and toothbrush in one hand and a towel wrapped around his waist. He had been bathing.

Now, Galen has a bath in his master bedroom. Why he is doing this remains unclear to me. Much like why he washes his fish tank in my bathroom. A ritual he does every Sunday, much like he mops the floor and washes his clothes.

I know he has been using my bath because I always have to push the stopper to switch modes between getting water from the shower head or the faucet that runs water down to the cement screed bathroom floor.

And before moi moved in, there were pails of little gravel stones that are used for lining the fish tank's floor in the bathroom.

All the trademark makings of another Psycho?

And yes, to avoid any conflict (it is always my belief that the less we talk, the less trouble and the less we run into each other, the less clashes) I stay out on most weekends, the time he is usually home.

God knows, he does need his private time for sexplay or what-not right?

And I have a third postulate. If to date, the washer is still throwing up those mud-stained flaks and it is only Galen and I doing the washing (but what if Auntie Galen comes in at other times when moi isn't around, who knows really) then it must be something he is putting into the washer.

Singapore Land Is Scarce And It Is Our Land
Yes, I support the thinking behind the rule that goes against foreigners buying up our land. The only let-up was at Sentosa Cove.

This should remain in force without any question.

In fact I believe the reins should be tighten even further especially if they are not even one of us. Here taken to mean being only a permanent resident which would entitle them to buy up our land.

But I am speaking strictly in terms of landed properties' ownership.