I'm not in love

Thank you to R2 for contributing to this week's blog about life in Singapore from a man's perspective....as my editor, he was on the other side of the screen and realized how difficult and long the task of writing a blog really is. It was fun for me to be the editor and critique the work before it went live. This blog had several revamps before it was LaynainAsia ready, but somehow, I know you will enjoy.
Layna

“I'm not in love
So don't forget it

It's just a silly phase I'm going through

And just because, I call you up

10 cc in their "Hey Day"

Don't get me wrong, don't think you've got it made”

It was the mid-70s when Eric Stewart and Graham Gouldman from the group 10cc were singing they were not in love. What is unbeknownst to most people is the name 10cc refers to the average amount of sperm a healthy male produces in one, well, let’s just say, “Happy Ending.”  “So this is important because?” It relates to just another day in lovestruck Singapore.

Remember these figures: 10cc = 10 ml AND 1 pint = 473 ml MEANING 473 ml = beeeeerrr

In Singapore, a questionable budget hotel with 81 rooms has its busiest day on Sunday, and during peak hours, there is about an hour wait for room inspection. Rack rate is $50 for two hours meaning that every Sunday there is a solid performance of chuga chuga for eight hours. In 10 hours, assuming the wait list is active and people are willing to bide their time, there are 81 rooms producing an average of 10 ml per hour, per room for a total of 8100 ml or 17 pints of semen a day. Only counting this hotel chain with 24 locations around the city with an 80 per cent occupancy on Sunday can be calculated at approximately 326 pints of semen. I fear to do the math on a rainy day because let’s face it, there isn’t anything else to do in Singapore when the rainy season hits.

"Special" hotels all over Singapore

LaynainAsia and I live near a budget hotel and we notice on hot days, which is about 363 of them, there is a particularly large amount of sheets waiting to be laundered outside the hotel. The stench is pungent, I mean, right in your face, pungent. Asia has a gamey smell at the best of times, but this is particularly ripe. 

R2 on his way to the F1 races

This is, of course, an afterthought as I was cruising the streets of Singapore trying to find my way to the Formula 1 races. It was my first time attending an F1 race, which sounds far cooler than it is.  I couldn’t help noticing the above mentioned events around the dark corners of this wonderful yet odoriferous city; I have to say though, I have been to far worse stinkers in the world, some not far from here. 

Moving along, I finally found the entrance to Zone Four, which was the only zone left to get tickets for cheapskates, if you consider a $160 a pop, budget. The downside of Zone Four is that no matter where you are, the only thing visible is the blur of the cars and tons of noise vibrating my internal organs, which by the time the race started, were processing three pints of beer. 

It wasn’t long before I became dizzy and I decided to return home, however, not before saying goodbye to Katy Perry in person. Katy was the closing act for the F1 and a huge draw for the Grand Prix.  I thought I would take in the concert but between the beer, the crowd, the noise and my age…I decided my comfy bed and wife seemed a better option.

Perry - the Singapore Smurf

Before I managed to leave the F1 area, I saw Katy.  She looks so big, and not just her tatas.  She is attractive, what can I say, we had a moment.  She saw my eyes, I saw her blue hair and soft, youthful stare.  We connected on so many levels.  Okay, I am fantasizing; she was on the big screen and I was trying to climb the walls to avoid the old, fat, drunk Englishman in front of me. Sorry Katy, I am not in love. Go back to your crazy ex-husband, Russell Brand, I will keep my lovely LaynainAsia.  At least she will take care of me.

For the record, since everyone seems to be doing this and getting accolades for their effort, here is my contribution to the great art of literature. This text contains 34 AWESOMES (by simplification, awesome x 34), along with, 45 “oh my” (“Oh my” x 45) and one inner goddess. Here you are, got away with it, without wasting ink and exhausting reader’s patience. Thank you 50 Shades of Crap, I mean Grey.