I just put my brother to sleep by playing The Darkness. After all, what music to better appeal to a young teenager than extremely bad rock music originating from dodgy sources? Looks like the CD that I bought when I was Sec 3? (it was with Ianthe and from HMV, lined up in some specials rack facing the entrance on the second floor - I have no idea why I remember this) was finally useful for something. I listened to it once before and that was it.

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I was at the ICA today to pick up my poor IC (I kept putting off going to collect the re-done one, and well, they sent me a letter on Wednesday to tell me they found my old one :D:D:D:D). When my grandma dropped me off, I was faced with a veritable mass of humanity and started cursing the decision I made to even think to visit ICA on a weekend. However, faced with a conflicting schedule (I refuse to visit the ICA on my birthday or on Friday when I had a vague notion of going out - I have the official TOK presentation now though, damnit) I had no real choice.

However when I went there, I was rather astonished to find that collection of lost ICs had their own special section - with the ominous words 'Interview Room' printed on them. Oh shit. I stood a distance away from the rooms nervously glancing up at the numbers and my queue number; just my luck that Singapore was so efficient that I was next one in line :x

The door opened and the crack revealed two guys sitting at the interview table looking morose, an Indian man who looked like he was in charge was holding the door open. My breath smelled like eggs :x Then my queue number flashed up and I sprang to my feet and felt like I was headed to my doom. Maybe they were going to detain me there and rearrange my brain to be some strange Drong spy.

The Indian man stopped and spoke to me outside the door and told me to hand him my items (letter, IC collection slip, queue number) and then return to my seat outside. I complied. After about five minutes I was called into the room :x I was steeling myself up to be drilled mercilessly by the IC gods but he just told me to sign two pieces of paper and wait again outside to collect my IC. Eh, what the heck?

So outside I waited, and before 5 minutes were over, my name was called and I held my old nerd pic IC in my hands again. I still had about 20 mins to kill till my grandma swung by to pick me up again for lunch, so I wandered about the ICA building. Did you know there's an ICA gallery? It's actually quite interesting and was pretty crowded. There I found out something(s), so uh Victor don't let any weird ICA people catch you with the plane gift I got you from China. They had various other interesting paraphernalia like:

1) Bong made out of a glass coke bottle. It looked like it had an erection or something.
2) Bong made out of coconuts
3) Furry handcuffs with tiger print (I LOLED)
4) Porno mags (isn't the internet better?!)
5) Nunchakus with a golden dragon motif
6) A crocodile skull (eh wtf?)
7) Dodgy religious material, by some weird prophet from God-knows-where (HEY LOOK A PUN)*
8) Some weird instructional manual on some odd religion*
9) Something that had an Indian god/goddess picture on it and was unreadable*
10) A poor Lala that had it's stuffing ripped out and drugs stuffed inside (I found this really funny too, because there was this little kid running around and was trying to reach for the Lala toy)

*(So this actually means we'll have no harebrained Scientologists here... I think)

Outside there was also an exhibition on modified cars to show smuggling of illegal immigrants. I actually felt kinda sad looking at that. It made me think of Ghosts and the most excellent book that I finished last night, Grotesque by Natsuo Kirino.

Ack it's 2:00 am! I'd better go now.