Apologies to those who were expecting more frequent blog-posting, the but the issue is that people in my business school have discovered this blog, and some of them read it too. Most of them save it for a weekly class we have called “Managing People For High Performance”. As you can expect, it’s best to be surfing the web during that class (We have wireless net access throughout the school, and laptops are allowed – nay required- for many classes).


Here, we say goodbye to The Sexy Singaporean. She will no longer be appearing on this blog – mercifully she hasn’t discovered it yet… I think. Why goodbye? This is why:

You go out to a Thai Restaurant with her,  The Incredible Indonesian (otherwise known as the Balinese Beauty – see the previous post for pictures of SS and II) and the Magnificent Malay( who has not been photographed yet).

Anyway, so over an unfuckingbelievable dinner, the Sexy Singaporean proceeds to make fun of one’s lack of biceps, and punjabi amount of hair…She even offered to wax me…


Another Moan-And-Groan

I’ve discovered why it is that I’m single.

Note-to-self- when sitting on a bed in a woman’s room, if that woman is sitting next to you, and she’s previously told you she thinks “she’s falling in love with you (just kidding”), and she mentions something about how some of the girls got together and voted yours truly one of the better-looking guys in class (second to an Italian), and she’s been teasing you about being gay (and you shoot back with – “well let’s go to a private room and I’ll show you just how gay I am”)…you’re supposed to make a move. Otherwise, she ends up going out with a guy whose name, if pronounced as it is written, would be slang for masturbation. But it’s not the woman that bothers me, it’s the principle of the thing – i.e. missing the signals. 

2nd Note-To-Self

When a woman starts rubbing up against you in the local bar, mentioning how “she doesn’t have game” and you compliment her and tell her that she has lots of game, and when she makes you promise to come back when you go to the bar to get drinks, and ahem, continues to rub up against you, it’s a signal. Argh. 


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