A week ago, I received an unexpected job offer to provide my voice for a commercial.

The job happened on Friday. It was so cool that I won’t mind solely doing this for a living.

Of course, like acting, you’re still subject to uncertainty and long waiting times between jobs, so it’s not a sure carerer.

But in voice work, at least, the audition processs is more or less eliminated so it’s less hassle. All you need to do is submit your voice samples via e-mail and wait for good news.

I can’t tell you the details yet, but the job was for an Internet commercial.

Me with the creative team from Ogilvy & Mather.

The recording was done at The Gunnery, which does audio for all kinds of productions.

Two months back, I had gone for a voice performance workshop at The Gunnery to learn about doing voiceovers for TV and radio commercials.

It was just one of those things I do because I like to learn new stuff. I never really thought I’d have the chance to be a professional voice artist, especially since I hate the sound of my own voice.

I’m not entirely new to voice work, of course, having provided many voiceovers for my own acting performances and commercials, but those were kind of like tag-on assignments, so they’re not really counted.

I did voice over one beauty salon TV commercial many years ago but it was more a favour for someone than anything else.

But I guess attending the workshop paid off because it got me this job.

In the workshop, we learnt how to tweak our voices in dozens of subtle ways to achieve effects desired by clients. We learnt tricks on how to sound a certain way by doing certain physical actions.

We also recorded several samples of us reading actual commercial scripts.

Me with Evan Roberts, creative director of The Gunnery.

Evan was our coach at the workshop. He also directed my performance on Friday and did the sound engineering. He’s amazingly talented as well as patient and awesome. I can’t wait to work with him again!

Well, as much as I hate my voice, this is something I don’t mind pursuing. I mean, if there are people who like my voice, I’m using it.

The work is challenging, fun and immensely satisfying when you get it right. Sometimes, your voice just refuses to come out the way you want it and then it’s all wrong, and you have to do it over and over.

I wonder if I’ll get more jobs after this?

Yay! Let’s all be armchair fashion critics now.

As part of The Great Singapore Sale 2009 (which started yesterday), Nuffnang is hosting a fun blogging contest. Write a blog entry on the topic “Do Singaporeans dress badly?” for a chance to win attractive cash prizes!

Details of the contest here.

You know, I would love to say that Singaporeans dress badly. (I think humans are instinctively more critical towards people closer to them.)

But I thought about it objectively and came to the startling conclusion that Singaporeans don’t dress worse than people of other nationalities.

Every country has its fair share of good and bad dressers.

And, even then, dressing is very subjective. There are times when I stare at a very ugly piece of work (for example a pair of shoes or a blouse that someone is wearing) and I’m horrified that such an ugly thing could even exist. I want to shoot the designer.

What in tarnations is this monstrosity?

But who am I to say that something is ugly? The very existence of it proves that there are people who don’t think it’s ugly. At the very least, the designer and the person wearing it both like it, and they are entitled to their opinions even if I feel like shooting them.

I’ll say one thing about Singaporeans and fashion, though. We prefer to be safe than sorry. So we wear safe clothes that allow us to disappear in a crowd. We don’t like to stand out.

There are, of course, exceptions. And then there are people like me who want to play safe and stand out at the same time. So I’m always veering between wearing boring clothes and wearing crazy clothes.

Two years ago, I started a fashion diary to chronicle my more adventurous fashion moments, also as an excuse to start dressing more boldly. It was a lot of fun.

But I don’t dress adventurously as much these days because it’s really hard to find interesting pieces in Singapore and I don’t have time to go travel-shopping, plus it’s very time-consuming to mix and match clothes perfectly.

But I think Singaporeans should all attempt it. There will be people who like what you throw together and people who hate it, but at least it’ll make our streets more vibrant and exciting.

I was at Bugis Junction a few days ago and spent 10 minutes taking photos of people walking past me. Bugis is a great place to collect data on fashion because of the wide demographics of people found there (executives, funky teenagers, auntie types, arty students).

From my 10-minute sampling, I concluded that Singaporeans don’t necessarily dress badly. They just dress safe.

Of course, I can’t say with certainty that the people I saw were all Singaporeans, since we have a huge proportion of foreign talents on our shores. (Which makes it even harder to judge whether Singaporeans dress badly).

But I already had a thought about this many years ago, when we didn’t have that many foreign talents yet.

While waiting for a date at Raffles City Shopping Centre during peak hour one day, I was people watching. In half an hour (yes, my date was that late), I only saw about two people wearing something bold and exciting.

People-watching in Singapore is pretty boring.

Of course, one problem, as I’ve mentioned, is that it’s hard to find interesting clothing items in Singapore. Everywhere you go, you see shops selling basically the same thing. And Singaporeans are busy people. We don’t have time to go around hunting for interesting stuff to wear.

And because all the shops are selling the same things, we end up all being clones (which, I suppose, contributes to the feeling of safety that Singaporeans instinctively desire).

Worse than the clone problem is the fact that people are now increasingly shopping online at blogshops that all sell the same things. With online shopping, you don’t get to try on clothes, which means that people are now also wearing ill-fitting clothes.

It’s quite a worrying trend.

Perhaps we should start thinking out the box. How about wearing pajamas out?

Pajamas have become a lot more fashionably delightful. I was looking around in La Senza the other day and saw many sleepwear items I would actually wear out.

I love pajamas and always have a large collection at home.

Of course, I wouldn’t wear this out unless it’s for a pajama party. But pajamas are getting more un-pajama like so, one day, you might really see me going out in the streets in my PJs!

Generally, I think Singaporeans are alright in dressing. We just need to be more adventurous and stop following trends blindly because not all trends look good on everyone!

And I hope more shops will bring in more exciting choices!

Lame Drinks

I hate when cafes serve us watered-down drinks.

You know that the drink comes from a can (for example, Seasons Iced Lemon Tea is a common one) because you can recognise the distinct taste.

But what you get in the cafe is half diluted, yet costs 300% the original retail price.

I don’t mind paying more in cafes but don’t give me watered-down versions of drinks! It gives me a very bad impression of your establishment.

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Random Steamboat

Had dinner last night with a few STOMP Star Blog regulars, as well as the Goonfather and Unker Kell.

We went to a random steamboat place in Chinatown. The ingredients were not bad, quite fresh, but the soups were only so-so. It cost about $20 per person (eat all you can).

Incidentally, last night was also Star Blog chat night.

We adjourned to Pitstop Cafe after dinner to play board games. While I was logged into Star Blog to chat, my regular chatters were playing board games beside me. O_o

Board games FTW! (See next item.)

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Accomplished Liars

Balderdash is a freaking fun game! I so am going to play it again.

It’ll take too long to explain it, so maybe I’ll do a review in GGF someday. :P But let’s just say for now that it involves making up funny but credible lies.

It is immensely hilarious, especially if you play with creative and inventive friends.

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No GGF

Unfortunately, I won’t be able to publish Gamer Girl Friday tomorrow because I am up to my ears in assignments this week, plus I have a physical job (as opposed to writing job) tomorrow. Will talk more about the job after I’ve done it!

I will have another blog entry up tomorrow, which will be quite a fun read. Well, at least I’m hoping it will be. I haven’t actually written it, lol.

Lame!

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$2,000 leh!

Guys, dont forget to sign up for the Watson’s You Awards

There’s like $16,000 cash up for grabs, and that’s not even including product prizes. Just give it a shot. Nothing to lose, right? ;)

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Off to the gym to punish my body now!

Already ten sessions into the California Fitness BodyAge™ Challenge, I’m still laughing uncontrollably during my workouts.

I thought I would get tired of laughing, eventually, because there’s only so much humour one can milk out of a particular situation.

But working out is still fun. And funny.

Especially if you’ve got a trainer like Mr Eric Goh, Nightmare Incarnate.

It’s quite amazing how he can torture you and make you laugh at the same time.

Over the years (six years, I believe), he has accumulated a fine collection of nicknames given by his fitness clients, for example, Evil Eric. I believe my contributions were “Slave driver” and “Sadist”.

And to think that when I first laid eyes on him, I had thought, “Oh, he looks kind and harmless.”

Station #1

Quadriceps training. It’s damn heavy, by the way.

Eric: Be careful when you’re working out on this piece of equipment. Don’t ever let go your legs.

Sheylara: Why?

Eric: Because the only things supporting this weight are your legs. If you let go, it was crash down all the way until something stops it. Which is you.

Sheylara: Why so dangerous one!

Eric: Yes, so don’t let go.

Sheylara: But you’re holding on to it, right??

Eric: Who says I am?

Station #2

Eric: So, what did you do over the weekend?

Sheylara: Blah blah blah.

Eric: Nice!

Sheylara: Hey! Stop talking to me. You’re not counting when you’re talking to me!

Eric: Of course I am.

Sheylara: How?!

Eric: By how much your muscles are trembling.

Station #3

Doing ab curls.

Eric: You’re doing well, keep it up.

Eric: 27… 28… 29… 20!… 21… 22…

Sheylara: ?

Eric: Don’t stop! 26… 27… 28… 29… 20!

Sheylara: WTF?!

Station #4

Eric: Okay, okay, don’t say I bully you. We play a game now.

Eric: When I pass the ball to you, swing it to your right, then pass back to me again.

Sheylara: It’s damn hard lah. I can’t move it. Hahahahaha.

Eric: Yes, you can. See I’m doing it, too.

Sheylara: You didn’t just finish doing 3,493,504 reps on the abs bench!!

Eric: Aiyoh… stop laughing. Later you hurt yourself.

Sheylara: Too late. I’m gone.

Eric: Very good. Start from one again!

As part of my recent balanced diet plan, I’ve been eating a lot of cereal lately.

I’m up to my ears in cereal. I eat cereal for breakfast, lunch and tea break. Not every single day, but enough to make me a cereal killer.

(I love cereal, but since I have to avoid the sugary kinds and opt for the healthier variety, instead, eating cereal has become less exciting by half.)

Last Saturday, I had an early cereal breakfast at 6:30 am, after which I went for a 7 km run, and then had a second cereal breakfast at 9:30 am.

When it was time for lunch, I decided I’d had enough of cereal. There’s a Cafe Cartel 12 minutes from my home and that’s where I wanted to go for lunch.

It was a leisurely Saturday for me. The Goonfather was having weekend classes and I didn’t have a lot of work to do at home, so I brought a book with me to the restaurant.

I kind of went off my diet a little by ordering a pan-fried sambal macaroni (one of the restaurant’s specialty and my favourite) but I figured I deserved it.

After a relaxing meal and several chapters past my book, I got up to pay for my meal.

That was when I realised that my wallet wasn’t in my bag.

That meant one thing: It was probably sitting around at home, though I couldn’t imagine why.

Getting hot-faced as I frantically rummaged through my bag, I told the cashier, “I can’t find my wallet.”

She didn’t seem to understand me. She went off to get a colleague, another lady who walked towards me with a questioning look.

Still rummaging, I said, “I can’t find my wallet. Can I come back later to pay?”

Surprisingly, I received a very benign “okay” with no questioning, no suspicious narrowing of eyes, no instruction to leave behind a pound of flesh as collateral.

I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised.

I am always unwittingly pulling stunts like that, forgetting my wallet, or forgetting I don’t have money in my wallet. Yet, of all the times I’ve had to apologise for not being able to pay on the spot, none have provoked instant arrest, so that’s kind of heartening.

The trouble was that, now, I’d have to walk home to get my wallet (12 minutes), walk back to Cafe Cartel again (12 minutes) and then back home again (12 minutes).

Adding the initial 12 minutes to the mix, that was 48 freaking minutes of walking in total, just because I was dumb enough to forget my wallet.

Of course, that’s nothing compared to my 75-minute walk under the hot sun just to get a Subway sandwich.

But it’s still a lot of walking, considering that the 75-minute walk happened just one day before. Add into the equation the fact that I had already run 7 km in the morning, I think I deserve a medal for grievous stupidity.

It must have been the diet gods punishing me for the sambal macaroni by covertly teleporting my wallet back home while I was eating.

I suppose the good news is that I must have burnt off most of the sambal and macaroni with all that walking.

One can only hope.