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If you want to contact me, you could try Facebook, GTalk or MSN. But you might have better luck by using telepathy. Or not.

Also, if you do have a spare phone that is reasonably functional (has screen, relevant buttons work, doesn’t freak out when I take a call), do pass it to me.

Oh, and the story about how I lost the phone? Well, this weekend was spent at NACLI at South Buona Vista Rd. Doing something so pointless, I’m sobbing as I write this. It was the SICS camp. The what camp? Yes, precisely. SICS. *sobs*. And I lost my phone somewhere there. In the jungles of Kent Ridge Park.

The saddest part of it was I wanted to retrace my steps at Kent Ridge Park (subjecting myself to a repeat performance of pure, pure, evil torture), but I woke up late. And then procastinated. And I went to the World’s Most Pointless AGM. And then had a long lunch. The phone still had a dial tone at lunch, so by time Mishti and I got up from our fat asses and went through Kent Ridge, the dial tone suddenly dissappeared, replaced with a cold, “The Singtel customer you have been trying to reach is not available…”. I then took off for a cliff to end my sorrows, but after a few metres, I ran out of breath and decided to come back to hostel and plot my revenge on the average park-goers of Pasir Panjang. You will feel my wrath, Kent Ridge Park! My wrath! But I had half my mind to skip the SICS annual general meeting (indeed, what? But I did waste the whole of Saturday and that was the only session that seemed, plausibly, remotely useful. Seemed. I was just lazy) in the morning and search for the phone. And if I did, I would have found it.

Also, I used to live on South Buona Vista Rd and I swear, last night was the first time I went to Harry’s at The Village Centre. But I think the last time I drank beer within the vicinity of my old place, I got interrogated my a thousand different people on my alcoholic behaviour (the place is the staff quarters of the Campus Crusade for Christ). Failing to convince me about the evils of alcohol, they evicted me and sold off the place, forcing me into a whirlpool of depression and claustrophobia, and now I have some two cases (24*2 folks) of beer in my room placed precariously outside my room. Consequences, Crusade, consequences.

Update: I could explain what SICS is about, but it would underscore the pointlessness of it all, and make my lost phone seem even more in vain. Lets dress it up and say SICS is an organization that pushes paper and they held the camp because they have too much money they need to spend otherwise they would underbudget.


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