Easy Money

Today in class, the topic of discussion was the legality of sale of body parts. And it was all academic and intellectual and... boring, until this Russian student offered this real-life anecdote.

"When I was studying in Russia," he said, "I was headhunted by this medical firm which offered to buy my sperm."

I tell you, the whole room fell quiet. You could literally hear all the males just opening their eyes in surprise as the possibilities coagulated. No pun intended.

"How much were they going to pay you?" asked the Professor.

"Well... give or take $200 USD per shot."

"And did you sell it?"

"All I can say is that I'm paying my school fees here on my own!" came the reply.

(Tsk, these lazy people. If I were him I would have my own limo, my own yacht, and a whole new wing of the school named after me, by now. And also a severe case of dehydration.)

Look, I'm Singaporean and I have no idea how they do things in Russia but $200 USD per shot is just nuts, no pun intended. Granted, it's a lot of cash, but can you imagine having kids somewhere out there whom you don't even know about?

So it's goodbye, PSP, I'll earn you the hard way. Pun intended.

Besides, I doubt my ego could take it if I were only offered $2 + food vouchers + parking rebates. Men and their fragile egos.

Sobs

Fish.

I came across this today in school, and it made me sob. Hehe.

http://animalcrossingtragedy.ytmnd.com/

I blame the song too.

The Secret To Happiness

We teeter in the air for a moment, and as the magic dust clears, we slowly flutter down on the softest sand I've ever felt. His arms, tightly wound around me, never once loosen.

We lean back, inextricably intertwined, with the sound of waves all about us. Even against the brisk seaside air, I am not left wanting for warmth.

He brushes my hair, runs his thin fingers through it. "Oh, Wendy," he dreamily sighs, "you have the most golden-spun hair... the most enchanting eyes... the most honeyed personality I've ever seen... don't leave me anytime soon..."

I immediately blush - oh, how defenseless is the maiden who's had her heart whisked away! "Stop it! You don't really mean that!" I bury my face deeper into his chest, and the slow tick-tock of his heartbeat somehow convinces me that he does.

"It's true! When I caught a glimpse of you telling those bedside stories last night, I knew I simply had to know your name! You were that that mesmerizing, my dear."

"You incorrigible stalker! You almost had me at you with a broom, the way you flew in through the window and promptly announced yourself as if everyone should know who you are!" I make as if to pinch him, but he laughs, mutters something about spunky British girls, and we fall back to a comfortable silence.

I've known him for only 16 hours, but already it feels like a lifetime. Of bliss.

"Tell me Peter", I sufficiently rouse myself to say, "how do you stay so happy here in Neverland?"

"Hmm," he says, "I guess you kinda have to live and let live? You just seize the moment, and just make sure you don't let things bog you down. That way, every day is a new one, and you will receive everything with the utmost enthusiasm!"

"But what about the bad things here in Neverland? Do they not get you down? I envy you. Sometimes it feels like I'm carrying the world around on my shoulders..."

He plants a kiss on my forehead, gives me a reassuring hug. "You're quite the worrywart, aren't you? Hmm... in truth I can't really recall any bad memories... I guess the good things like you chase the bad memories away, eh?" Again, that winning, charming smile of his!

The waves crash around us, and we slowly fall into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

************************************************************************************

I rub my eyes, and open them blearily to see Peter standing next to me. I reach out for him, and when he deftly avoids my hand a sudden chill grips my heart.

As I sit up, Peter places his hands on his hips, the same way he did when he introduced himself yesterday, chest all puffed out, disarming smile at its brightest.

"Welcome, stranger, to Neverland! My name is Peter Pan! And who might you be?"

And for some reason it occurs to me that he is not joking.