The Jennifer Blogs

Tonight I met my neighbor Moik in the hot tub. He lives across the hall from me and just moved in with his wife last month. We've never had an opportunity before now to chat.



Moik and his wife Maria are here for about the same amount of time we're here, so it looks like they'll be neighbors for the long-haul. I learned that today Moik and Maria went to Malacca and got some great deals on designer handbags and Polo shirts.


I told Moik we hoped to visit Australia this Christmas, so he was telling me what I needed to know. For instance, don't. Don't go at Christmas cuz it's too freakin' hot. Something like 40 or 42 degrees (which is over 100 degrees Fahrenheit). So yeah, duh, it's on the opposite side of the world from America, so of course. So now we're not sure if we'll wait and go in April or May when it's cooler, or if we'll just go someplace different at Christmas. That Moik. He's a wealth of information.



I just like saying his name. Moik. Moik. Moik. It's actually Mike, but when he says it, it sounds more like Moik and it's too fun to say.

In the past if you had asked me what kind of music I like I'd have told you, "anything but rap." That has all changed, and fairly recently.



I used to work out with my iPod, but I always listened to podcasts. While I still enjoy a good podcast every now and then while I'm walking, most of the time these days I prefer music. Rap music. It really motivates me. Sometimes it makes me angry. But usually it just provides a great beat to keep me going. Unless the lyrics just downright make you laugh. Like No Ayer by Flo Rida.



When I was first listening to this song I couldn't wait to hear what an "Ayer" was. And I think I literally said, "Nuh uh!!" out loud when he got to the part that says, "Throw my hands up in the ayer." AIR. It's AIR. A-I-R. Not ayer. It's one syllable. Air. As in hair. Oh wait, you also say hay-er.



That one just makes me laugh. No way I can walk when I'm laughing.

Having lived in Tokyo for six months, I thought it was pretty cool when we came here and saw a store in the mall called Authentic Japanese Souvenirs. There were honestly a few things in Japan I wished we had brought with us, and this was going to give me an opportunity to pick them up here in Singapore.

 I found something of interest, turned it over to see the price and instead saw the words Made In China.

 So much for that.

I just returned from the condo office to voice my complaint over the Speedo Rule. Before walking in and making a complete idiot of myself, though, I walked to where the pool rules are posted to make sure there wasn't something on there that I missed. Indeed there are only two rules. Both apply to safety-type issues.



While I was on that side of the pool I noticed a man and his wife getting ready to swim. He had on a pair of swim shorts like what Jean-Luc wears. I was going to approach him and ask if he had any problems with his bathing suit choice, but as I got close he removed them to reveal a tight little pair of Speedo trunks. I smiled through my teeth and continued toward the office.



I think I frightened the little Singaporean woman behind the counter. I told her my son was kicked out of the pool, and I wanted to know why. It seemed like she was already familiar with the situation. Apparently the security guard who reprimanded my son already filled in the office staff.



She came out of the office, pen and paper in hand, and proceeded to draw for me the different types of bathing suits with which she is familiar. She then wanted me to point to which kind my son was wearing. Then she drew a diagram of the swimming pool and pointed out which areas he could swim in with his current bathing suit. I'm not making this up. He is allowed to swim in the "kiddie pool" with his shorts-style trunks. But to swim in the "Men's Pool" as she called it, he must wear a Speedo. (where the heck is the woman's pool??)

I explained to her that I wasn't trying to cause any trouble, but that my son is 15. FIFTEEN! F-I-F-T-E-E-N. If he puts on a Speedo and a pretty girl walks by, the office may get complaints of a different kind. 



I also explained that since they are "taking complaints," I am actually quite unhappy about my 12 year old daughter having to look at all the European junk hanging out at the pool. In some cases, almost quite literally. 



You would NOT BELIEVE some of the bathing suits out there. One old guy has a pink speedo with white polka dots. A little tiny tight pair of girly panties, if you ask me.



Anyway, she told me to bring the bathing suits my son wears to the office. She will photograph them and write descriptions to send to the management. They will decide on the matter. Whatever. I'm not stupid. I know what that means. And there's no way in heck Marso will ever get in that pool with those things either!

 As disgusted as I am by this, there's a little part of me that wants to invite a bunch of big men to a swimming party at our pool. Is that bad?

 Anyway, I'll let you know what "management" says about the suits.

I've seen some kids do some crazy stuff at the pool here. Everything from cannon balls and pushing each other in the pool to cursing quite loudly and even eating in the pool. Ya know why Jean-Luc got kicked out? Because of what he wasn't wearing.



Okay, calm down. He was definitely wearing a bathing suit. But, he wasn't wearing a Speedo, and apparently that's required here.



The way my son tells it, he and his sister were in the pool when one of the guards here told him that he needed to get out because he wasn't wearing a Speedo. Apparently, people were complaining because he wasn't wearing one.



If it is a rule that you have to wear a Speedo in the pool, it has never been brought to our attention. I will have to go double-check the sign, but it seems I would remember if it said:



Rule 6: 
All men must wear bathing suits 
so tight that we can see what God and
 your momma gave you.



So tomorrow I will have to go to the office to find out what this "rule" is all about. If I knew I was allowed to complain, I'd be complaining about the 65-year-old man who lays by the pool in his Speedo. It's bad enough to see the younger guys wearing them, but there are some things that men over age 40 and men over 200 pounds should not be allowed to wear. One of those is a Speedo. In fact, Speedo is at the top of that list. Yet there appears to be a Speedo Meeting congregating at our pool.



Of course, I must keep in mind that I am not in America, and that here in Singapore there are way more Europeans than anything else. Europeans love to show their junk.



Wish me luck!