"And trust me, in another context, the prospects of a wild, hungry and stiff crowd chasing after me and wanting to sink their teeth into my fair and firm backside turns me on," Stanley typed in our group chat titled "Just the Boys".
"Like Kingdom!" chimed in our dense friend Carl, who recently discovered Netflix.
Indeed, I feel like I'm in the cast of a Hollywood film where my community is infested with zombies, and I'm going out only at certain times of the day to quickly loot the local supermarket, making a point to also load up on batteries and random electronic gadgets so that I can fashion makeshift communicative devices and reach out to other stranded survivors.
It's not easy changing our lifestyle amid this new "circuit breaker" month, a term coined by our government to get us to stay the heck at home to break the virus transmission.
These days, most of us work from home.
And although I'm back in Singapore and sorely miss my partner J and my boys Stanley and Carl, we've chosen to wait it out and put off all physical meetings (even before they were made illegal by the government).
In fact, we've been on Zoom so many times that even if we're not turning into zombies outside, we're turning into Zoobmies in the confinement of our respective homes.
The other day, Stanley captured a screen grab of one such meeting -- my partner J, Carl our dense friend and me looking stoned in our respective zoom boxes -- and captioned it "Daze of Our Lives".
"It is super hard," Stanley complained the other day.
"And trust me, I never thought I would use the words 'super hard' in such a context," wrote Stanley who is obviously on a dangerously dry spell.
But we all do what we can.
Carl our dense friend, who's also a gym rabbit, has taken to torturing himself, groaning and moaning in his living room with YouTube tutorial videos.
Stanley the sex bunny has also taken to torturing himself, also groaning and moaning in his bedroom but with other types of tutorial videos.
To each his own.
Point is, we do what we can to survive and thrive.
During this period, some of us have developed habits that are actually good.
My sis, for instance, has taken to cooking.
That woman never had to cook all her life.
Even as a working adult, she had free meals at her tech company (and it's actually really, really good).
But now that she's working from home too, my sis has been experimenting with different kinds of recipes.
Paella was on our dinner menu last evening.
On other days, we decide to give in to our own cravings.
She ordered pizza to reward herself from a sweaty session of home-based yoga, while I ordered Indian food.
"I had craving for Briyani the other night so I ordered it on Food Panda the next day," I updated the group of every of my daily decisions, a habit I formed since I started confining myself to my sister's apartment.
"I also have craving -- can I order a Food Panda guy online?" Stanley responded, doing his part to supply us with useless facts.
My partner J is also benefitting during this period.
As a responsible citizen, he rarely steps out of his apartment except to buy food and exercise.
My partner J, who was an avid footballer and hockey player in his secondary school and JC days, and a one-time competitive swimmer in his early adulthood, has not been exercising regularly.
Thanks to this circuit breaker period, J has picked up the habit of outdoor running (alone, of course).
The other night, I was chatting with J online when he took off his top to show me what two months of exercising has done for him -- once again, my partner is athletically lean and has abs.
Oh how I wish this circuit breaker thing will end soon.
Meanwhile, on a more wholesome note, Carl the dense one is really taking this time to reinvent himself.
Our friend is revisiting his old hobby of baking.
Yes, our bulky friend who has biceps the size of obese pythons, can lift 80kg of pure iron on some days, and can, if he so chooses to, also gently knead dough like Teatime Party Barbie.
Among the goodies Carl has baked in his lifetime included chocolate brownies (one of his first attempts in his youth), as well as fruit cakes.
Last week, Carl took photos of his kitchen, showing us how well-stocked his cabinet is.
There are at least seven different types of flour, three brands of rainbow crinkles, multiple bottles of food dyes and also various types of chocolates.
"Are you being hired by the Hansel and Gretel witch to build another candy house?" Stanley asked.
Carl, who has no childhood memory nor can he sing any nursery rhyme, did not reply.
"God, if you do build such a house, you'll be under the sex offender's watch list -- watch out children. Pervert uncle on the loose," wrote Stanley who is losing control of himself.
Earlier this morning, Carl snapped a photo of yet another type of flour, telling us he's buying it to bake bread.
"Easy, crazy flour lady," Stanley wrote. "How many types of flour do you need?!"
"I need the yeast for bread," Carl wrote.
"Oh girl. In my heydays, I don't even have to buy yeast. It comes to me naturally," said Stanley who obviously needs to get some action right now.
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Adam's stories are based on real life events and inspired by real people
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