Music - the universal language

In the office today, the colleague aka The Junkie labelled my taste in music as *Singapore Trash.

Simply because when asked what's my take on Lady Gaga, the only comment I could give was, 'She is rubbish!'

Another colleague, aka The Farmer insists, 'Her music is not bad at all!'

*Faint*
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*The origin of Singapore Trash:

We were on the way to lunch in the car one day. My very hamsome young Italian colleague assumed loudly I wouldn't enjoy the sort of music which was blasting into our ears. To which I replied rather snobbishly (I must admit), 'This is Eurotrash.'

To describe the genre of music from Singapore and since I am from Singapore, The Junkie very conveniently came up with Singapore Trash. The term is thus born. And the rest they say is history.

(Note: The Junkie was never in Asia, let alone Singapore and thought Singapore was in China and was surprised when told Singapore has indeed clubs, or rather disocs.)

Somebody, save me!!!

SICK of it

I am probably suffering the worst cold ever in my life right now.

Perhaps on the onset of every cold, I would be scurrying to the friendly neighbourbood clinic in Singapore for that fix of antibiotics that I hardly had the chance to experience the full-blown cold.

The past week was spent sneezing incessantly, with an itching nose running at full speed, a throbbing headache and a sore, dry throat. Despite the sorry state that I was, I soldiered on and went to work as usual. Make no mistake, I am not in love with my job. But with the long Easter holiday and all, I thought it unwise to absent myself again due to a common cold. The Company does have a different set of values from others when it comes to work absentees, cold or no cold, legs intact or not.

On Friday, I finally had enough. With dry and burning eyes, I couldn't last a second longer in front of the computer screen. I was stoning and my mind was an empty blank. After clearing what needed to be done, I decided it's best for me to go home and recuperate.

When told of my decision over the phone, she put me on hold. Shortly after, she came back with, 'Since it is Easter holiday and Friday noon. there is nothing much to do here. You are allowed to go back.'

I am allowed to go back?! It was as if I was at her mercy.

That bloody pisses me off!

Didn't she get it? I was not asking her. I was telling her I wanted to go home. Albeit I being very polite about it, it was not a request!

I do not need anyone to sing praises of me just because I reported for work despite being ill. Everyone in the workplace can attest that I wasn't well. It was not an act. But exactly that sort of reaction from her is the last thing I need.

If they are not going to be understanding and sympathetic about it and do not appreciate the amount of effort I put in my work, I say they can go fuck themselves.