Something at the end of the rainbow...

People tell me it's a pot of gold. Some say it's a chest of money. I've heard tales of a fountain of youth.

Whatever it is, it's always there.

You just have to find it.

Life throws these curveballs at you when you least expect it, so it's about time you stand up for yourself and do something.

Get a bat.

Swing. Hard.

Take life back a notch and continue with the ball game.

To the uninnitiated, that means Let Nothing Stop You.

There's always that Sunshine at the end of a bad day; the pick-me up laughter; the slaps on the back from your closest friends; that one reason that makes it all worthwhile; You.

And don't forget to smile.

Bruffy Returns!

Now we all know incredible tales of animals having found their owners years after being lost, making their way through dangerous and life-threatening terrains while braving rain and gust and scorch and famine before returning love-lorn into the arms of their careless but nonetheless loving owners.

Bruffy returned to me just twenty minutes ago, and is now getting the presidential treatment from the delicate and skillful hands of my dearest Cupcake.

Just moments ago, I chronicled the loss of my Bruan Buffel wallet, hereby dubbed Bruffy, in a momentous fit of rage of anguish topped off with much embarrassment. I also mentioned the several unnoted hints from le' ol' Ye-sus and how those near-death experiences served no purpose in heightening my resolve to protect Bruffy.

"You've never known loss before you lose something dear."

Add a sip of Coke Lime, and the company of the most beautiful girl in the world, and ya got a perfect story.

Cue the morning sun.

Yeah, it's hard waking up in the morning (warning, long wax lyrical approaching), especially when you know that it's a Friday and you've got so much work to do you 'll practiacally fall over laughing at how much un-weekendy this day is going to be. Add the weekend-burning stock take (over 60,000 titles and a million damn books at any one time), and you got a recipe for gloom.

A walk down to the bus stop is always refreshing, but only if I'm doing it with the love of my life. (Side note: Dear Cupcake, thanks for everything. You make it all worthwhile!) The bus is coming from behind and we realise that it's my dearest's. So she gets on in that dainty fashion and waves goodbye, but not before catching a glimpse of her boyfriend frantically searching for something...

I was trying to board the bus behind, and in Singapore, we have these little nifty things we call ExLink, which is kindalike a tap card. It makes the bus go beep and we get a free ride. Yup, that sums it up.

So I look over and give the sweet thing one last wave before retiring to the garden bench, punching the 100 number to cancel my cards and make arrangements for my trip home.

The SH-1305 came along and your royal pissiness went ranting again. I told the cabbie I lost my wallet. Then he went into this what-must-be-hours-long story about how good things will come when you're doing good things.

T'was a great lesson, that was. Summing it up it nutshells into "don't worry, your wallet will return to you somehow."

Short of waving a magic wand ala Fairy God Cabbie, he perpetually summoned my wallet back to me.

And back it did come! The angel of a princess of a goddess of a Cupcake's sister returned it to me. It's like sticky and void of money (yes, it was the birthday money), but hey!

Bruffy returns! ROAR!

OH, THE SHAME~

Those who have lost wallets before, hands up.

I'll need more hands then.

Now, it's this thing I have with wallets... Every one that I've had since I known my own existence, I've lost. And for those twenty-four years of lost wallets and agonizing disgrace for not being able to take care of a little leather pouch, I've apparently leant NOTHING about keeping things close and unlost.

Yes, my parents will have a hayday with this one.

As will the people whom I will see to get my replacement IC done.

"What do you mean this is your third time?!"

Sheesh. As if I saw that one coming.

Actually, I did... Allow me to recollect the near-death experiences of my most recent Braun Buffel wallet that lead to his inevitable demise at the hands of the Muffin King.

I've this habit of placing the wallet in my bag instead of sticking it behind my ass like most guys would have done. I just find this norm kinda disgusting. It's like someone offers you a butt-tissue and you cringe before finally accepting it (whether it comes in a leather tissue holder or not non-withstanding).

Anyway, back to the wallet - Since I prefer my jeans to be flat-at-the-back (lo and behold the use of a flat ass) so that I might be more comfortable sitting, I would always place it in my bag. Now, for short journeys on the bus or on the train, I'd place it just underneath the bag's flap. Then I'd stand and NEVER noticed the wallet drop to the floor...

Special thanks goes to the kind people who tapped me on the shoulder and offered my wallet back to me.

The unfortunate, albeit forseeable, departure of the Muffin's most recently acquired wallet is just, in my humble and most god-fearing opinion, a way to let me know that it's been one tap on the shoulder too many.

Well, I guess I'll have to get everything settled then... There are cards to be made, money to be paid; parents to be swayed (into my so-far-unsuccessful tear-jerking moments of feigned innocence), and assholes to be blamed.

This goes out to the asshole of a cab-passenger who happened to pick up my dear BB:

I suppose the thought of returning my wallet must have passed through your criminal mind, if just for the few micro-seconds, and let's suppose you actually got close to telling the cabbie that you found his passenger's wallet and wanted to hand it over...

Why the fuck haven't I gotten back my cards yet? Screw the money, you can pay me back when you're rotting in hell! But to take my IC and EzLink and Credits and ATMs and COMPANY PASS (paying my pockets dry for this lesson...)! This is an unspeakable act.

Lucie just called. Says you got a slammer right neath Ol' Saddam. Rot in hell, asshole.

Now, if you did return my card and I can expect to get it from the police post after a good ticking off about carelessness and responsibility of a citizen for carrying a NRIC, THANK THEE KIND SOUL MAY GOD BLESS THEE AND GREAT THINGS COME THY WAY.

So now, how many of you have lost your wallets and have had the crook return the important documents, hands up.

Much better.