So to speak.

I've been contemplating posting this for a long time, but given that it might possibly serve as a brief milestone in my life. Just for the record. I'd look back at this someday and get a kick out of it.

A month ago, I was rallied by my employers for an ad shoot for the launch of one of our major tenders for an online portal catered for our civil servants and the like. Generally male oriented. It's suppose to look domestic and vibrant and young and attractive and cool. None of which I qualify for. Theoratically speaking. And no, its not gay.

But yeah, you heard it right the first time, I was rallied for an ad shoot.

Mm hmm. You can stop laughing now.

Incidentally, I never auditioned for it. Honest.

Picture this - You're having lunch with your colleagues, guffawing at the latest gossip, mildly intent on noticing the spew of profanities thrown at your superiors to even bother about the excerpts of your conversation on the lunch table, which happened to have included the remnants of your nasi bryani, when the next moment you realised that you've just had a couple of talent hounds frivoulously snapping away at your grotesque, candid self to have it submitted for consideration for an ad to be circulated islandwide on butts of public buses and bus-stops.

Oh dear God. What the heck were these people thinking.

Anyhoo, on the premise that I was to receive a mystery gift for being chosen (cruise tickets maybe?), I turned up at the studio on a Thursday morning with 2 sets of business-wear, an empty stomach, sweaty palms and a very sian face.

* At first, I thought I was lost cos the studio's doorway looked rundown and reeked of indian oil. I reckoned I didn't sign up to be a sacrifical token to Khali and so I skeltered down the steps only to find my agent, who was fashionably late, at the doorway. *

I'll admit, it was a first for me to be at a photo studio and I must say I was duly impressed at the setup. The layout of the place struck a chord of innuendo and nostalgic comfort. They even had 2 cats and a bull-terrier, who promptly slapped his tongue all over my feet.

I sat chatting with my agent whilst waiting for the makeup artist to arrive. I must say no matter any amount of resolute could possibly have prepared me for what I was about to expect.

Shortly after having my makeup done, which I can honestly say was a daunting affair both physically and mentally (I concedingly salute all the showbiz folks and the women of the world for having to go through that facial ordeal.), I was ushered to my props, which was an office desk and, well, an office chair.

"Ok, Kelvin, I want you to relax and smile. Imagine your girlfriend now giving you massage and you are enjoying it."

Ok.

Snap snap.

"That was...er..not bad. But no need so..er...kua zhang. Not like she giving you a blow job hor. We want portray wholesome image."

Errr...ohhh kaaay.

Before we go on, might I include the fact that I had to lean backwards on a chair jammed up my spine and my arms flapped out folded behind my head. Underneath the office desk in front of me was the photographer's assistant who had to meander his bulk to keep out of view whilst positioning himself so he can help adjust my shirt if it got too wrinkled. Imagine having your back literally breaking into two, a guy squatting next to your crotch and yourself looking like an idiot airing his armpits, you still had to smile like you're wasted.

"Ok, you have to relak more, Kelvin. Right now you smile like you look very tensed up. Don't force your smile. Relax your facial muscles. Close your eyes first. Ah ah, like that can, can. Then try to imagine you are relaxing after a hard day's work and then you slowly open your eyes and smile."

** There I was thinking, bloody hell, I AM relaxed already. And now they are barking out all these instructions and basically asking me to force myself to be relaxed. Under all this pressure, HOW TO RELAX you tell me?! **

We managed to finish the entire shoot in roughly 4 hours. They had another guy come in whom I presumed was a genuine model because, heck, he was good-looking and relaxing brazen and cool about the shoot, despite his age.

Something tells me I am definitely not cut out for this kinda shit. And I still am waiting for my supposed payment.

Edit : Mystery gift is not going to be cruise tickets.

*****

Shiiiiieeeet. My other manager just recommended me for a Singtel ad. She says I might make it like Rui-en.

Damnit, I'm asking for cruise tickets this time.

I have never done memes in my life, but I figured I might as well make my first a patriotic one.

I am not mrbrown, Mr Miyagi, Xia Xue or blinkymummy. I am a common man. With common ideals. A very common name. Very common looks. And hopefully, enough common sense.

I hatched my nickname after the Dutch acronym, and later cursed it when they got kicked out of the World Cup.

I am a victim of the education system, of our social infrastructure, of National Service (nabei just got upgraded to Pes B again, c**e b*e!), but then again, so is everybody else.

I am not a thespian, nor metrosexually-inclined, neither a elitist, socialist, leftist, racist or a sexist. I am, however, shamelessly full of shit.

I drive my dad's and my girlfriend's car. I have bumped my dad's car once and went home with the foglight and my soul scraping the PIE.

I stand behind the yellow line at the MRT stations, stand inside the yellow box when I smoke and I smile at the stranger who holds the elevator door open.

I am of Teochew descent, but I swear better in Hokkien and Cantonese.

I love my country, my friends and my family. My roots and my history is here. And hopefully, so is my future.

My name is Kelvin Seah, I am a Singaporean.

So say we all. So say we all.

Tags : iamsingaporean, Singapore, NDP06,

Tagged from : the mrbrown show 5 July 2006: I am Singaporean by Mr Miyagi