Hedonistics Anonymous
Friday, September 30, 2005
Happy Birthday, sayang...Do you remember how our love for Big Macs would have us waiting in anticipation at the McD counter for the waitress to ask, "Large size value meal?" only to have us answer solemnly, "Extra large, please" before bursting into fits of giggles...
Do you remember how I had to coax you to leave the warmth of the bed to get me something from the refrigerator... and the look of pure surprise on your face when you opened the door to find a pretty pink cake box tied with ribbons inside...
Do you remember what we did with the cake...? *wicked grin!*
Do you remember how you would make the most delicious coffee in the morning and fed me tiny sips of it in bed...?
Do you remember the first time I sat in your parked car after work... chatting... and suddenly you blurted out, "We could get caught for khalwat (close proximity) now, you know..."
Do you remember the next time I sat in your parked car after work... chatting... and suddenly we were blinded by the fierce glaring headlights of a police car... and some idiot cop was knocking on the window demanding our ICs...
Do you remember catching the golden sunset at Hawaii Beach... and our brief stop at the seafood restaurant where you got so freaked out at the sight of a creepy alien-looking baby crayfish repetitively doing U-turns in a small mineral water bottle, you actually ordered it to "stop doing that!!!"
Do you remember clubbing... and our 4am suppers that lasted till sunrise...?
Do you remember looking for an imaginary "someone" at Curtin Uni and when the security guard asked you where that "someone" stayed, you unwittingly gestured in the direction of *gasp!* the forest! It was a pure omfg moment, until the (blur) guard waved us through the gates...
Do you remember watching Miri by night, all sparkling lights and twinkle, from the top of Canada Hill...?
Do you remember... do you remember... do you remember....?
I always do.
Happy birthday, sayang... with all the Big Mac love and stuffed-crust pizza happiness in the world from me to you.
Do you remember how I had to coax you to leave the warmth of the bed to get me something from the refrigerator... and the look of pure surprise on your face when you opened the door to find a pretty pink cake box tied with ribbons inside...
Do you remember what we did with the cake...? *wicked grin!*
Do you remember how you would make the most delicious coffee in the morning and fed me tiny sips of it in bed...?
Do you remember the first time I sat in your parked car after work... chatting... and suddenly you blurted out, "We could get caught for khalwat (close proximity) now, you know..."
Do you remember the next time I sat in your parked car after work... chatting... and suddenly we were blinded by the fierce glaring headlights of a police car... and some idiot cop was knocking on the window demanding our ICs...
Do you remember catching the golden sunset at Hawaii Beach... and our brief stop at the seafood restaurant where you got so freaked out at the sight of a creepy alien-looking baby crayfish repetitively doing U-turns in a small mineral water bottle, you actually ordered it to "stop doing that!!!"
Do you remember clubbing... and our 4am suppers that lasted till sunrise...?
Do you remember looking for an imaginary "someone" at Curtin Uni and when the security guard asked you where that "someone" stayed, you unwittingly gestured in the direction of *gasp!* the forest! It was a pure omfg moment, until the (blur) guard waved us through the gates...
Do you remember watching Miri by night, all sparkling lights and twinkle, from the top of Canada Hill...?
Do you remember... do you remember... do you remember....?
I always do.
Happy birthday, sayang... with all the Big Mac love and stuffed-crust pizza happiness in the world from me to you.
*Sayang saaa...yaaaaaaaaaaang sayang!*Monica il goddess
Sigh.. the things I do to please my readers... *smiles*
Or perhaps I'm just in a good mood this morning.
I know SOMEONE in the Philippines who would love a slice of this delectable *koff*bellucci-cat*koff*
Do stop cumming all over the keyboard in anticipation.
Please aim at the monitor instead.
Or perhaps I'm just in a good mood this morning.
I know SOMEONE in the Philippines who would love a slice of this delectable *koff*bellucci-cat*koff*
Do stop cumming all over the keyboard in anticipation.
Please aim at the monitor instead.
snglguy, this one's for you..
and this one too...
and last but not least, this one. Yes Ms Bellucci, siente un goddess.
E sono notevolmente generoso.
Ora lecchi le mie punte.
Heh.
(English-Italian-English translations available at http://babelfish.altavista.com/)
E sono notevolmente generoso.
Ora lecchi le mie punte.
Heh.
(English-Italian-English translations available at http://babelfish.altavista.com/)
Thursday, September 29, 2005
Hell hath no fury like...It's been pretty long since I last wrote a real post. Writer's block is akin to mental erectile dysfunction - a blogger's nightmare. Sometimes I feel compelled to blog, but after I hit the "create post" button, my mind just goes *blip* blank.
Lately, I've been feeling positively mild which is a definite improvement over the neuro-angsty emo-wrecked princess two weeks back. It's a relief to take a break from life's little dramas and just be a gum-chewing spectator on the sidelines.
My ex-colleague, Q, sms-ed me yesterday after my exams:
"Feeling horny? Need sex now? I'm desperate to give you some good hot loving. Call me at 01x-2xxxxxx..."
What the...?!? I was stunned for a moment, before curiosity took over. I decided to call Q.
Me : Woman, what was that all about?
Q : If you feel the need to mencaci (cuss) someone, just call that number lah.
Me : Huh?
Q : That stupid bitch insulted me and so I'm going to return the favour a hundred times more. I hate her. Btw, feel free to pass that number around.
With that she hung up, leaving me blur to the core.
Late last night, Kel called me and told me that Q confided in him during work. It seems that Q's fiance-to-be has been indulging in some supposed hanky-panky behind Q's back. When confronted by Q, he denied everything vehemently and to prove his innocence, he sent an SMS to the other girl ordering her not to contact him anymore.
As the saying goes, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.
Q immediately suffered an onslaught of verbal thrashings from that girl, some downright face -in-the-mud degrading. For revenge, Q is embarking on a one-woman hate smear campaign. I can't exactly say I approve of her tactics but hey, to each her own, right?
On a lighter note, Q and I had this little chat 2 months back.
Me : Why did you break up with your ex, C?
Q : Don't know lerr... I guess I was bored with him already. Moreover, he has a small dick!
Me : *Wtf?* Woman, how long were you with C?
Q : Errr... almost 4 years.
Me : And it took you 4 long years to realize that he has a small dick. Amazing. Eh, you sure it's not your pussy getting bigger, arh?
Q : HAIYA YOU!!!!!!!
Lately, I've been feeling positively mild which is a definite improvement over the neuro-angsty emo-wrecked princess two weeks back. It's a relief to take a break from life's little dramas and just be a gum-chewing spectator on the sidelines.
My ex-colleague, Q, sms-ed me yesterday after my exams:
"Feeling horny? Need sex now? I'm desperate to give you some good hot loving. Call me at 01x-2xxxxxx..."
What the...?!? I was stunned for a moment, before curiosity took over. I decided to call Q.
Me : Woman, what was that all about?
Q : If you feel the need to mencaci (cuss) someone, just call that number lah.
Me : Huh?
Q : That stupid bitch insulted me and so I'm going to return the favour a hundred times more. I hate her. Btw, feel free to pass that number around.
With that she hung up, leaving me blur to the core.
Late last night, Kel called me and told me that Q confided in him during work. It seems that Q's fiance-to-be has been indulging in some supposed hanky-panky behind Q's back. When confronted by Q, he denied everything vehemently and to prove his innocence, he sent an SMS to the other girl ordering her not to contact him anymore.
As the saying goes, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.
Q immediately suffered an onslaught of verbal thrashings from that girl, some downright face -in-the-mud degrading. For revenge, Q is embarking on a one-woman hate smear campaign. I can't exactly say I approve of her tactics but hey, to each her own, right?
On a lighter note, Q and I had this little chat 2 months back.
Me : Why did you break up with your ex, C?
Q : Don't know lerr... I guess I was bored with him already. Moreover, he has a small dick!
Me : *Wtf?* Woman, how long were you with C?
Q : Errr... almost 4 years.
Me : And it took you 4 long years to realize that he has a small dick. Amazing. Eh, you sure it's not your pussy getting bigger, arh?
Q : HAIYA YOU!!!!!!!
Sugar, how you get so fly?
Listening to Baby Bash's "Suga Suga" right now.
"...You got me lifted shifted higher than a ceiling
And ooh wee it's the ultimate feeling
You got me lifted feeling so gifted
Sugar how you get so fly?..."
A song so befitting the oh-so-gorgeous Ms Lopez.
legs galore... beerbrat, this one's for you.
"... You know its leather when we ride
Wood grain and raw hide..."
perfection.
"...Suga suga how you get so fly?..."
And ooh wee it's the ultimate feeling
You got me lifted feeling so gifted
Sugar how you get so fly?..."
A song so befitting the oh-so-gorgeous Ms Lopez.
legs galore... beerbrat, this one's for you.
"... You know its leather when we rideWood grain and raw hide..."
perfection."...Suga suga how you get so fly?..."
Exams vs CSI
Had exams this morning - Introduction to Marketing. 2 days of half-hearted swotting will probably result in, what, a B? *crosses fingers and toes*
Serves me right, but at the moment there's no way I would trade 3 crimorgasmic hours of CSI (the guts! the gore! the glory!) for something piss-boring like studying.
Serves me right, but at the moment there's no way I would trade 3 crimorgasmic hours of CSI (the guts! the gore! the glory!) for something piss-boring like studying.
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
I love GSC!!!!Huh??? GSC???
(This is Bakri...)
(Yes, this is Bakri again. Isn't he adorable??He's a great drummer as well.
He used to play for Flop Poppy and Koffin Kanser)
(Sigh, Bakri's soooooooooo cute...!!!
Make my heart skip several beats already...)
Make my heart skip several beats already...)
(*Swoooooon!!!* I think I'm in lurve...Eeeee... look, he's wearing RED too!!!
Just like my uniform...
Suddenly I like red... )
(The first time I saw Bakri was inGSC's music video "Senyuman Ragamu".
I tell you, my jaw literally dropped. He was THAT hot.
Now I still think he is hot, but not so much anymore...)
Why?
Because obssession is unhealthy and it turns you into a mindless slave.
I am not a blog whore.
Sudden traffic influx does nothing to boost my endorphin production.
I don't give a rat's ass if my blog doesn't rank among the stars.
Because I write firstly for myself, secondly for you.
And I don't believe in freedom of speech because it doesn't bloody exist.
Not in this lifetime.
What I miss most about Miri
1. DJ Mix cigarettes - all three fruity flavours: Iced Green Apple, Lemon, & Strawberry.
2. Cheap Made-for-Malaysia cigarettes. None of those with "US Surgeon-General warning" crap, please.
3. Clubbing. Clubbing. Clubbing.
4. Downing wild espresso shots. Aaahhhh.. the advantages of working in a coffee company. Flavours tried to date: espresso+eggnog syrup, espresso+lemon syrup, espresso+tabasco sauce. The worst tasting combo was espresso+eggnog. Tasted like hot bitter cough syrup.
5. Stealing a smoke in the broom cabinet. Not recommended for claustrophobes.
5. Dating at the Taman Awam at 2am. I miss the suspension bridges... *sad sigh*
3. Clubbing. Clubbing. Clubbing.
4. Downing wild espresso shots. Aaahhhh.. the advantages of working in a coffee company. Flavours tried to date: espresso+eggnog syrup, espresso+lemon syrup, espresso+tabasco sauce. The worst tasting combo was espresso+eggnog. Tasted like hot bitter cough syrup.
5. Stealing a smoke in the broom cabinet. Not recommended for claustrophobes.
5. Dating at the Taman Awam at 2am. I miss the suspension bridges... *sad sigh*
6. Hawaii Beach... *even sadder sigh*
7. Roti John and Burger Sam at Perwira Cafe.
I miss everything about Miri... *looks around wistfully*
Okay, it's 6pm. Time to pack my bags and head home.
Monday, September 26, 2005
My office buddiesYesterday if I were a cartoon, I would be...
Ren, the neurotic "asthma-hound" chihuahua from Ren & Stimpy.My nerves were super-frayed from all the ongoing reality drama (which definitely puts all those spanish telenovelas to shame when it comes to passionate hissy fits) and I was heading straight for a premature nervous breakdown.
But as usual I pulled through and today I would like to introduce you guys to my two best office buddies...
But as usual I pulled through and today I would like to introduce you guys to my two best office buddies...
Yups... that's Happy Turtle and Octopoosie! Aren't they sweet? They are permanently attached to my headphone jack (except for just now when they took a short trip to the scanner to be immortalized in blogsphere). I adore them to bits because they're so smiley! Whenever I'm feeling down in the office, I look at these two cuties and my mood miraculously ups a few notches.
Happy Turtle and Octopoosie are just 2 out of 6 other cheerful designs which retail for RM6.90 per pack. Who said that happiness therapy cannot be affordable?
Happy Turtle and Octopoosie are just 2 out of 6 other cheerful designs which retail for RM6.90 per pack. Who said that happiness therapy cannot be affordable?
Sunday, September 25, 2005
Who's afraid of the big bad wolf?Saturday night was pretty cool. Chilled out with my cousin Irene, Rozie, John and local bloggerbrity Kenny "Mr Orgasm-inducing" Sia. We met up at Bing, had our warm-up drinks before heading to Soho to check out the drunken, seedier sights of Kuching.
Kenny did a write-up.
Rozie did a write-up.
Irene did a very brief write-up.
And so I won't do a write-up. I think these 3 good people have said everything and more, and so I shall not steal their limelight. Heh.
Anywayyyyyy... I woke up this morning to receive a "not very nice" sms from Rozie.
"...Omg woman, he's so tooshing you in his blog..."
and later:
"...He erased his post!..."
Sigh. This post goes out a certain canis lupus. Yes, you know who you are. I did not read your original tooshing post, but from the bits and pieces I gather, I can sort of figure out that you think that I'm starting a hate campaign to smear your name.
All these started when you read her blog and you didn't like what you saw. I was featured in her blog making a rather unkind statement, which admittedly I did because I saw no reason to mince my words. That said, blogs, like the media, are often biased and written from a single narrow point of view. Why she featured my single sentence in that light to make you think I didn't like you, I have no idea. Why she didn't feature my answers when she asked me who's better, you or him, I have no idea either. All I can say is I did put in some good words for you too, knowing how you feel about her. Go ask her if you don't believe.
Kenny did a write-up.
Rozie did a write-up.
Irene did a very brief write-up.
And so I won't do a write-up. I think these 3 good people have said everything and more, and so I shall not steal their limelight. Heh.
Anywayyyyyy... I woke up this morning to receive a "not very nice" sms from Rozie.
"...Omg woman, he's so tooshing you in his blog..."
and later:
"...He erased his post!..."
Sigh. This post goes out a certain canis lupus. Yes, you know who you are. I did not read your original tooshing post, but from the bits and pieces I gather, I can sort of figure out that you think that I'm starting a hate campaign to smear your name.
All these started when you read her blog and you didn't like what you saw. I was featured in her blog making a rather unkind statement, which admittedly I did because I saw no reason to mince my words. That said, blogs, like the media, are often biased and written from a single narrow point of view. Why she featured my single sentence in that light to make you think I didn't like you, I have no idea. Why she didn't feature my answers when she asked me who's better, you or him, I have no idea either. All I can say is I did put in some good words for you too, knowing how you feel about her. Go ask her if you don't believe.
Freedom of speech
Is often misinterpreted and abused
To the point where
I am forced to write
Good structured english
eventhough all I want
To do right now is
well
Better left unsaid.
Is often misinterpreted and abused
To the point where
I am forced to write
Good structured english
eventhough all I want
To do right now is
well
Better left unsaid.
And puh-leez, I don't think I am better than you. It's not my fault if my parents can afford to put me in a private school, okay. That doesn't make me more "high-class" than anyone. I don't know, but of all the things you ranted about, this part irks me the most. To be held against something that is sooooo beyond my control.
Stop polluting the mind(s) of the one(s) you love, you say. I think that's a highly insulting statement for all parties involved. Firstly, are you insinuating that I'm solely responsible for all the damage done? Secondly, do you really think my words hold so much power over her judgment? Is she not capable of forming her own conclusions? Thirdly, do you dare say that your own words and actions have not played a part in how she sees you now?
Sigh.
I'm not going to touch on this subject anymore. It's exhausting. I don't give a damn what you do or how many hands you shake, but making me the scapegoat for your actions pisses me off. Think carefully before you condemn.
Stop polluting the mind(s) of the one(s) you love, you say. I think that's a highly insulting statement for all parties involved. Firstly, are you insinuating that I'm solely responsible for all the damage done? Secondly, do you really think my words hold so much power over her judgment? Is she not capable of forming her own conclusions? Thirdly, do you dare say that your own words and actions have not played a part in how she sees you now?
Sigh.
I'm not going to touch on this subject anymore. It's exhausting. I don't give a damn what you do or how many hands you shake, but making me the scapegoat for your actions pisses me off. Think carefully before you condemn.
Friday, September 23, 2005
Mellow Saturday at the morgueMood forecast for today: Reasonably good.
Just posting little bits and pieces for your reading pleasure. Nothing heavy... it's Saturday for crissakes, eventhough I'll be stuck in the morgue till 6pm... someone save me please!
1. I adore doing laundry using the washing machine. I love buying laundry detergent and fabric softener. I can do laundry almost everyday. After that, hang my wet clothes on colour-coded hangers. Yellow ones for workshirts. Pink ones for jeans and "good" shirts. Beige ones for "not so good" shirts. Uh, I guess I'm freaky that way.
2. I adore bedsheets, but not floral-patterned 'auntie' ones... (John, are you reading this?) I swear, I don't mind getting bedsheets as presents. They're pretty, practical (unlike useless soft toys) and they don't die (unlike flowers).
3. I'm listening to an assortment of R&B and hip-hop dance tracks through my headphones and damn, I soooo feel like dancing nowwwww... arrrggghhhh!! *Covers face in despair*
4. The guys in my office have a dumb kiddy sense of humour. The boss bought a toy robot from god-knows-where. The guys spent a good half of the morning assembling the dumb thing and laughing like loons everytime it made loud spluttering sounds. I was more freaked out than amused. I think over-working really fucks up your brain.
Just posting little bits and pieces for your reading pleasure. Nothing heavy... it's Saturday for crissakes, eventhough I'll be stuck in the morgue till 6pm... someone save me please!
1. I adore doing laundry using the washing machine. I love buying laundry detergent and fabric softener. I can do laundry almost everyday. After that, hang my wet clothes on colour-coded hangers. Yellow ones for workshirts. Pink ones for jeans and "good" shirts. Beige ones for "not so good" shirts. Uh, I guess I'm freaky that way.
2. I adore bedsheets, but not floral-patterned 'auntie' ones... (John, are you reading this?) I swear, I don't mind getting bedsheets as presents. They're pretty, practical (unlike useless soft toys) and they don't die (unlike flowers).
3. I'm listening to an assortment of R&B and hip-hop dance tracks through my headphones and damn, I soooo feel like dancing nowwwww... arrrggghhhh!! *Covers face in despair*
4. The guys in my office have a dumb kiddy sense of humour. The boss bought a toy robot from god-knows-where. The guys spent a good half of the morning assembling the dumb thing and laughing like loons everytime it made loud spluttering sounds. I was more freaked out than amused. I think over-working really fucks up your brain.
Optimus Prime wannabe. Bah, what an ugly rip-off.5. I'm sooo hungry having gone on my 3rd day of water and vitamin pills breakfast. Oh well, it's lunch time.
-
-
-
-
-
-
But it's Saturday and the choice of food at the coffeeshop has been reduced by more than half. *grumbles* Hmm.. salted fish fried rice, anyone?
(To be continued later...........)
A little birdie told me...
An innocent little birdie told me today that a double-headed ogre with green cat's eyes sent me a parcel of spite double coated with sickly sweet arsenic-laced caramel.
My, my... How very appropriate.
Deflating the truth with porcupine quills has always been part of your nature, no? You take perverse pleasure in glorifying other people's misery in order to justify your wretched existence. Unfortunately, nobody ever suffers never long enough for you to immortalize and hang on your walls of delusional paranoia.
Karma, baby, karma. You reap what you sow. You get what you give. You make your bed and now you must lie in it. Or die in it, at the sorrowful rate that you are going.
My sincere apologies for bursting your vile little bubble of pseudo-happiness, but I do not share your sad fate in my pursuit for life's greater rewards. Neither of us are perfect, yes, but surely one does not solely blame the existence of horseless carriages for being the main cause of road accidents, right?
I would advise you to step up to the plate and open your shut eyes wide. On second thoughts, maybe you should just permanently seal your eyes shut. For only when you are blind, will you truly see.
My, my... How very appropriate.
Deflating the truth with porcupine quills has always been part of your nature, no? You take perverse pleasure in glorifying other people's misery in order to justify your wretched existence. Unfortunately, nobody ever suffers never long enough for you to immortalize and hang on your walls of delusional paranoia.
Karma, baby, karma. You reap what you sow. You get what you give. You make your bed and now you must lie in it. Or die in it, at the sorrowful rate that you are going.
My sincere apologies for bursting your vile little bubble of pseudo-happiness, but I do not share your sad fate in my pursuit for life's greater rewards. Neither of us are perfect, yes, but surely one does not solely blame the existence of horseless carriages for being the main cause of road accidents, right?
I would advise you to step up to the plate and open your shut eyes wide. On second thoughts, maybe you should just permanently seal your eyes shut. For only when you are blind, will you truly see.
Thursday, September 22, 2005
What if?Nowadays my breakfast consists of a glass of some highly nutritious organic fibre drink and I'm off to work. Oh, and a vitamin C pill to go with it.
Before that, my breakfast consisted of a bowl of Post cereals. I adore Post products - especially Post Fruit & Fibre Cereal with peaches, raisins & almonds. So yummy...!
Sadly, the organic drink finished two days ago and noone in the family is hardworking enough to replenish the stock. Actually, I went to the shop after work yesterday only to discover that they close at 6pm. Sigh.
So now my breakfast consists of a two glasses of water, a vitamin C pill and a Pharmaton capsule. Very, very healthy and 100% fat free. Really.
Last night, I was complaining to Kel about how "pitiful" my breakfast is (yes, I'm an attention whore that way) and suddenly it hit me.
What if all our meals were replaced by pills?
(Announcement over speakers)
"Attention all factory workers. It's time for lunch break."
(One minute later)
"Attention all factory workers. Lunch is over. Now get back to work."
Funny, but very scary as well. Heh!
Before that, my breakfast consisted of a bowl of Post cereals. I adore Post products - especially Post Fruit & Fibre Cereal with peaches, raisins & almonds. So yummy...!
Sadly, the organic drink finished two days ago and noone in the family is hardworking enough to replenish the stock. Actually, I went to the shop after work yesterday only to discover that they close at 6pm. Sigh.
So now my breakfast consists of a two glasses of water, a vitamin C pill and a Pharmaton capsule. Very, very healthy and 100% fat free. Really.
Last night, I was complaining to Kel about how "pitiful" my breakfast is (yes, I'm an attention whore that way) and suddenly it hit me.
What if all our meals were replaced by pills?
(Announcement over speakers)
"Attention all factory workers. It's time for lunch break."
(One minute later)
"Attention all factory workers. Lunch is over. Now get back to work."
Funny, but very scary as well. Heh!
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
Confessions: I am that girlI am the baby who was born on Labour Day. I am the child who endured tons of teasing from stupid classmates (Hey, your mum went into labour on Labour Day, ha ha) but in the end got my own back because my birthday always fell on a public holiday and theirs never did.
I am the baby who hated being rocked to sleep in a sarong. I am the baby whose doting dad hand-sewed cute pointy-toed cloth booties for.
I am the child who was always late for kindergarten until saying, "Sorry teacher for coming late" became second language for me. I am the child whose fingers got caught in the hinges of the toilet door because you, the big bully, closed the door on me the very last minute. I am the child who often got confused which way the numbers 2,3,5 and letters E,p,g,q,s faced. I am the child who thought myself dyslexic even though I didn't even know the word at that time.
I am the student who came first for both English and Bahasa M'sia class in Primary One and got your mother all flustered because I was smarter than you. I am the student who wrote (presumably) brilliant essays during English lessons in your eyes. (Thanks Mr. D, you rawk!)
I am the devil who glued your chair to the floor. I am the devil who put thumbtacks on the seat of your chair. I am the devil who stuck a huge dead grasshopper between your books and laughed to see someone else taking the blame. I am the devil who wrote a steamy essay about what people did at nudist beaches during one Primary Three exam and got summoned to your office. I am the devil whose parents kept getting called in by teachers to explain their firstborn's rabid precociousness.
I am the devil who sprayed Rain-X on your cabbage because you were such an asswipe and you constantly got on my nerves. I am the devil who gloated to see your cabbage turn dry and yellow the more you watered it.
I am the friend who taught you all about sex thru Harold Robbins novels behind the library shelves in Primary Five. I am the 'friend' whose bougainvillea plant you sabotaged out of spite.
I am the girl who got her heart broken a few times and went on to break many more hearts, but not totally out of spite.
I am the girl who can be made both very happy and unhappy by the little things in life.
I am the girlfriend who gave up her hedonistic lifestyle for you, only to question myself later whether it was actually worth it. I am the ex-girlfriend who forced you take me back to ease the pain of the break-up. I am girlfriend who is playing Stephen Gately's Stay on Winamp right now and wishing you could listen to the lyrics because it contains everything I want to tell you.
I am the girlfriend whose only thought a minute ago is that I would never have beautiful, big-eyed children with you. I am the girlfriend who will soon give the 'ex' title another shot because.i.know.i.am.stronger.than.i.think.i.am.
I am the girl who has fucked up countless times and still has so much to learn, but wouldn't want her life to be any other way but this.
I am that child, that girl, now older and hopefully wiser. Who are you?
[via tomorrow.sg. started by MercerMachine.]
I am the baby who hated being rocked to sleep in a sarong. I am the baby whose doting dad hand-sewed cute pointy-toed cloth booties for.
I am the child who was always late for kindergarten until saying, "Sorry teacher for coming late" became second language for me. I am the child whose fingers got caught in the hinges of the toilet door because you, the big bully, closed the door on me the very last minute. I am the child who often got confused which way the numbers 2,3,5 and letters E,p,g,q,s faced. I am the child who thought myself dyslexic even though I didn't even know the word at that time.
I am the student who came first for both English and Bahasa M'sia class in Primary One and got your mother all flustered because I was smarter than you. I am the student who wrote (presumably) brilliant essays during English lessons in your eyes. (Thanks Mr. D, you rawk!)
I am the devil who glued your chair to the floor. I am the devil who put thumbtacks on the seat of your chair. I am the devil who stuck a huge dead grasshopper between your books and laughed to see someone else taking the blame. I am the devil who wrote a steamy essay about what people did at nudist beaches during one Primary Three exam and got summoned to your office. I am the devil whose parents kept getting called in by teachers to explain their firstborn's rabid precociousness.
I am the devil who sprayed Rain-X on your cabbage because you were such an asswipe and you constantly got on my nerves. I am the devil who gloated to see your cabbage turn dry and yellow the more you watered it.
I am the friend who taught you all about sex thru Harold Robbins novels behind the library shelves in Primary Five. I am the 'friend' whose bougainvillea plant you sabotaged out of spite.
I am the girl who got her heart broken a few times and went on to break many more hearts, but not totally out of spite.
I am the girl who can be made both very happy and unhappy by the little things in life.
I am the girlfriend who gave up her hedonistic lifestyle for you, only to question myself later whether it was actually worth it. I am the ex-girlfriend who forced you take me back to ease the pain of the break-up. I am girlfriend who is playing Stephen Gately's Stay on Winamp right now and wishing you could listen to the lyrics because it contains everything I want to tell you.
I am the girlfriend whose only thought a minute ago is that I would never have beautiful, big-eyed children with you. I am the girlfriend who will soon give the 'ex' title another shot because.i.know.i.am.stronger.than.i.think.i.am.
I am the girl who has fucked up countless times and still has so much to learn, but wouldn't want her life to be any other way but this.
I am that child, that girl, now older and hopefully wiser. Who are you?
[via tomorrow.sg. started by MercerMachine.]
Feelings redefined
Driving home yesterday, the tears came in torrents. I managed to reach home in one piece. Sis was at home, so I temporarily stifled the sobs till I entered my room. Immediately, I crashed on the bed, buried myself under the comforter and literally sobbed my heart out.
I don't know how long I cried. I must have drifted to sleep from sheer exhaustion but when I woke up, it was pitch-dark and my parents were already at home. I couldn't bring myself to face them because I knew that my tears would not elicit any parental sympathy. Bright-white-light-in-your-face interrogations would be a more appropriate term.
A called me, "What time are you free? I get off work at 9pm. Let's do dinner."
I picked A up from home and we proceeded to go grub-hunting. After that, he invited me back to his house for some weed therapy - my reward for getting an A in my last exams. Heh.
I expected A to prepare joints as he's often too lazy to carve out a mineral water bong at such short notice. But he produced a miniature bamboo pipe which he claimed he bought from a local handicraft shop. It's very small, 6 - 7 cm in length only, and very slender. A filled the thimble-sized bowl with weed and we took turns lighting up. Jack Neo's One More Chance was playing on the laptop and we were watching it and giggling - me lying on the bed hugging the bolster; him sitting on the floor with his back against the bedpost.
I didn't get high like I hoped to - my emotions were still too raw to be cheated into happiness by stimulants. I could sense that A wanted to get to second base because he kept shifting closer and closer to me. But I just wasn't in the mood for any hanky panky. Besides, I don't quite see A as my toyboy anymore. Fucking him would be akin to incest, I suppose. Ugh.
My eyelids got very heavy and my pupils were pretty much unfocused on the drive home. I had to keep frowning to stop the double visions from occurring. But as usual, I got home in one piece.
Called Kel. Threatened RBL again. Discovered that I quite, quite don't feel anything for him anymore despite him telling me that he loves me. I sooo bloody hate to resort to dirty tactics like this, but I want him to hurt as well. An eye for an eye. I guess it's the perverse self-destructive mechanism in me kicking in again. Sigh.
I don't know how long I cried. I must have drifted to sleep from sheer exhaustion but when I woke up, it was pitch-dark and my parents were already at home. I couldn't bring myself to face them because I knew that my tears would not elicit any parental sympathy. Bright-white-light-in-your-face interrogations would be a more appropriate term.
A called me, "What time are you free? I get off work at 9pm. Let's do dinner."
I picked A up from home and we proceeded to go grub-hunting. After that, he invited me back to his house for some weed therapy - my reward for getting an A in my last exams. Heh.
I expected A to prepare joints as he's often too lazy to carve out a mineral water bong at such short notice. But he produced a miniature bamboo pipe which he claimed he bought from a local handicraft shop. It's very small, 6 - 7 cm in length only, and very slender. A filled the thimble-sized bowl with weed and we took turns lighting up. Jack Neo's One More Chance was playing on the laptop and we were watching it and giggling - me lying on the bed hugging the bolster; him sitting on the floor with his back against the bedpost.
I didn't get high like I hoped to - my emotions were still too raw to be cheated into happiness by stimulants. I could sense that A wanted to get to second base because he kept shifting closer and closer to me. But I just wasn't in the mood for any hanky panky. Besides, I don't quite see A as my toyboy anymore. Fucking him would be akin to incest, I suppose. Ugh.
My eyelids got very heavy and my pupils were pretty much unfocused on the drive home. I had to keep frowning to stop the double visions from occurring. But as usual, I got home in one piece.
Called Kel. Threatened RBL again. Discovered that I quite, quite don't feel anything for him anymore despite him telling me that he loves me. I sooo bloody hate to resort to dirty tactics like this, but I want him to hurt as well. An eye for an eye. I guess it's the perverse self-destructive mechanism in me kicking in again. Sigh.
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
Emo wreckLast night he told me that he's taking 3 days leave - from the day before his birthday till the day after his birthday.
I said okay. He has never been the type to make a huge fuss over his own birthday, something his colleagues seem to take pleasure in doing. So, I kind of understood his need to "get away" from work.
Just now during my lunch, he sms-ed to inform me that he was on break. Right after that, his colleague, Q, msg-ed me.
"Eh woman, Kel told me that he wants your pussy for his birthday present."
So I replied, "We are not together anymore, so please don't joke about this, k..."
At the same time, I sms-ed him: "What's this about you wanting my pussy for your birthday present? I heard this from Q..."
He chuckled. Q's very kurang asam (rude), he said.
Q's sms came in again. "Don't lie lah. I know he's taking leave during his birthday to go down to Kuching to visit you."
It was then I completely flipped. My sms to him read, "Look here, I've already told Q that we are not together. Why is she still going on and on? Kindly tell her to cut the crap. I'm in a horrible mood today. Please tell your staff keep their own office *jokes* to themselves."
My sms to Q read, "Fuck you lah. I've already said we're NOT together, ok? Now, stop it. I'm really fucking pissed."
She replied, "Woman, you're serious?"
Yes I am.
"But why...? It's such a damn waste... both of you were so perfect for each other..."
Yes I know. But he made his choice. And I made mine.
I'm such an emotional wreck now. My eyes are constantly tearing up in the office, but I won't let the tears fall. I wish I could take a bloody Samurai sword and cleanly hack off all the heartstrings attached. I wish he would tell me that he loves me and everything would be okay (damn, my eyes are tearing again) but I know it would be folly to return to my "comfort zone" just to take the pain away.
What is love?
do you stay with him just because others think you shouldn't leave him?
it's not l o v e, it's compromise.
do you feel that you love him because you simply cannot live without him?
it's not l o v e, it's dependency.
But
would you allow him to leave you, not because he wants to but because he has to?
then it is l o v e.
could you live without him, content with knowing that he is happy?
then it is l o v e.
I said okay. He has never been the type to make a huge fuss over his own birthday, something his colleagues seem to take pleasure in doing. So, I kind of understood his need to "get away" from work.
Just now during my lunch, he sms-ed to inform me that he was on break. Right after that, his colleague, Q, msg-ed me.
"Eh woman, Kel told me that he wants your pussy for his birthday present."
So I replied, "We are not together anymore, so please don't joke about this, k..."
At the same time, I sms-ed him: "What's this about you wanting my pussy for your birthday present? I heard this from Q..."
He chuckled. Q's very kurang asam (rude), he said.
Q's sms came in again. "Don't lie lah. I know he's taking leave during his birthday to go down to Kuching to visit you."
It was then I completely flipped. My sms to him read, "Look here, I've already told Q that we are not together. Why is she still going on and on? Kindly tell her to cut the crap. I'm in a horrible mood today. Please tell your staff keep their own office *jokes* to themselves."
My sms to Q read, "Fuck you lah. I've already said we're NOT together, ok? Now, stop it. I'm really fucking pissed."
She replied, "Woman, you're serious?"
Yes I am.
"But why...? It's such a damn waste... both of you were so perfect for each other..."
Yes I know. But he made his choice. And I made mine.
I'm such an emotional wreck now. My eyes are constantly tearing up in the office, but I won't let the tears fall. I wish I could take a bloody Samurai sword and cleanly hack off all the heartstrings attached. I wish he would tell me that he loves me and everything would be okay (damn, my eyes are tearing again) but I know it would be folly to return to my "comfort zone" just to take the pain away.
What is love?
do you stay with him just because others think you shouldn't leave him?
it's not l o v e, it's compromise.
do you feel that you love him because you simply cannot live without him?
it's not l o v e, it's dependency.
But
would you allow him to leave you, not because he wants to but because he has to?
then it is l o v e.
could you live without him, content with knowing that he is happy?
then it is l o v e.
Grow Cube
Grow Cube is a great office game. It's cute and it doesn't elicit too much hand movements or intense facial expressions.
The objective?
The objective?
Turn this...
into this...
It's quite, quite addictive. I managed to solve it and moved on to play Grow RPG which involves turning this...
into this...
Wahey!! I managed to solve it too! Unfortunately that was yesterday, which leaves me with nothing to do today (yet)... *sulk*pout*sulk*
(P/S: I DID SOLVE IT OKAY!!! NAH NAH NAH!!! EVIDENCE!!!)
*sooooo sulking now*
(P/S: I DID SOLVE IT OKAY!!! NAH NAH NAH!!! EVIDENCE!!!)
*sooooo sulking now*
Monday, September 19, 2005
Emo Princess rates the exesI loved you eventhough you were ugly, had horrible dressing sense (carrot-cut jeans, anyone?), you couldn't drive, and you cheated on me. But at least you redeemed yourself a little by giving me lots of L'oreal freebies. You cooked for me all the time. And you took care of the garden. Bf rating: 3/10
I tried to love you eventhough you were everything I wasn't looking for: a rough, scrawny bookie/punk kid with the smallest eyes in history. You never had the time, but when you did, you cared for me, made sure I ate and had enough spending money. Bf rating: 6/10
I loved you eventhough you constantly HAD to be better than me. From football betting to normal everyday conversations, you just HAD to win. Nevermind that in reality you were losing so badly that the bookie banned you from placing bets. *snigger* You taught me the basic points of betting and I learned and won so much more on my own. You taught me the basic points of e-mail hacking and I learned through your inbox that you had someone else out there. I'm just sorry that when I heard your mother passed away, all I could say was, "Oh." Bf rating: 4/10
I loved you eventhough we were never together. But you gave me so much than sex. You gave me constructive advice, friendship, grass, and a whole new outlook on life. Because of you I managed to move on with a vengeance. Fb rating: 8/10
I lusted for you because you were so cute. And a virgin. Fb rating: 4/10
I lusted for you even more because you were even cuter and you had superb manners. Fb rating: 7/10
I tried to love you but in the end your fiery temper threatened to engulf us all. And so I fled. Bf rating: 5/10
I hate you for attempting to ruin my life over and over again. I'm sorry, but there's not a single redeeming factor in you. I'm chalking you up as a temporary insane/delusional moment in my life. Ugh. Bf rating: (negative figure)/10
I loved you eventhough you were not available. I loved you even when she threatened me and the whole world ganged up against us. I loved you even when you chickened out on us and left me holding the bag. Damn you for being so irresistible. Damn me for not being able to hate you when I should. Bf rating: 6/10.
I loved you because you were physically perfect. And you played this player to PJ and back. And I fucking loved every exhilarating minute of it. Bf rating: 6/10
I tried to love you eventhough you were everything I wasn't looking for: a rough, scrawny bookie/punk kid with the smallest eyes in history. You never had the time, but when you did, you cared for me, made sure I ate and had enough spending money. Bf rating: 6/10
I loved you eventhough you constantly HAD to be better than me. From football betting to normal everyday conversations, you just HAD to win. Nevermind that in reality you were losing so badly that the bookie banned you from placing bets. *snigger* You taught me the basic points of betting and I learned and won so much more on my own. You taught me the basic points of e-mail hacking and I learned through your inbox that you had someone else out there. I'm just sorry that when I heard your mother passed away, all I could say was, "Oh." Bf rating: 4/10
I loved you eventhough we were never together. But you gave me so much than sex. You gave me constructive advice, friendship, grass, and a whole new outlook on life. Because of you I managed to move on with a vengeance. Fb rating: 8/10
I lusted for you because you were so cute. And a virgin. Fb rating: 4/10
I lusted for you even more because you were even cuter and you had superb manners. Fb rating: 7/10
I tried to love you but in the end your fiery temper threatened to engulf us all. And so I fled. Bf rating: 5/10
I hate you for attempting to ruin my life over and over again. I'm sorry, but there's not a single redeeming factor in you. I'm chalking you up as a temporary insane/delusional moment in my life. Ugh. Bf rating: (negative figure)/10
I loved you eventhough you were not available. I loved you even when she threatened me and the whole world ganged up against us. I loved you even when you chickened out on us and left me holding the bag. Damn you for being so irresistible. Damn me for not being able to hate you when I should. Bf rating: 6/10.
I loved you because you were physically perfect. And you played this player to PJ and back. And I fucking loved every exhilarating minute of it. Bf rating: 6/10
I love you and I still do. But if you refuse to move forward, then don't be too surprised if one day I actually take you up on your offer and find someone better. It's my future, and I don't want to compromise. My dad said, "If you think your life will be better after marriage, then by all means, go ahead. But if after marriage, you know that your life isn't going to be as good as the one your parents are giving you now, then you better think thrice." Sigh. Do buck up, baby. I know you can do it.
The Princess is a spoilt brat
Yes, I can't iron.
I've attempted to iron before (usually just jeans) and the results are errm.. better left unsaid. I have no idea how to get both sides perfectly smooth. Usually after I finish ironing, one side will be smooth and the other side will be less than smooth. And to date, I've ironed no more than 10 times.
When I was back in Miri, my housemates would make a freak production out of my ironing sessions. One by one, they would gather around my ironing board, making sarky comments in hushed, serious tones until I get really irritated and start threatening to iron their faces out.
Come to think of it, I seldom washed my school shoes last time. When they looked slightly grubby, I would pester my parents to buy me a new pair. And I remember begging my dad for a pair of Nike's once. He told me to wait one more month because we were going to Singapore then, and Nike's are really cheap in Singapore during sales. My mum bought me a horrid pair of Yasaki to wear while waiting for the Nike's. I remembered being so traumatized at being forced to wear something so 'cheap' that I cried. No joke. I told my mum I'd rather go to school without shoes than wear something un-branded.
Call me ungrateful but I never felt sorry for it. My parents never knew how difficult it was to survive socially in a upscale private school where everyone wore branded stuff with affectedl nonchalance. Yet, they would secretly scrutinized you up and down to see if you measure up to their level of wealth. If you were not rich, you'd better be as smart as hell to gain respect. If not, it was branded goods all the way to avoid being ostracized.
Although I've quite, quite discarded my air of arrogance and aloofness, I've never been able to resist the call of brandnames, something my parents find exasperating.
Mum : I wouldn't spend RM129.90 on that wallet. Some more, no discount.
Me : I can afford it, okay. Why do you think I work? So I afford nicer things in life.
Mum : You talk as if you're so rich.
Me : I'm just speaking the truth. Is it my fault if I have somewhat expensive tastes?
This type of conversation often took place when I was much younger.
Me : *Holding up t-shirt* Is this an original Hard Rock Cafe shirt?
Dad : Yes.
Mum : No. We bought it from Petaling Street.
Me : You guys lied to me!!
Dad : You think original Hard Rock Cafe shirt very cheap arh?
Me : Still, that's no excuse! You guys spend so much for your holiday and I just stayed at home! Is it too much to ask for an ORIGINAL Hard Rock Cafe shirt?!?
Mum : Don't be rude. That shirt you want to wear or not? If don't want, nevermind. I'll give it away to someone more appreciative.
Me : *Sulking* You can give it away. I don't want it. I'll get rashes if I wear anything unoriginal.
I was 12 or 13 years old back then.
Now that I'm working, my parents no longer cater to my whims. Except during my birthday when my dad bought me a pair of (expensive) Teva sandals. They were on sale and still they cost as much as the Nike's which my dad bought for my mum.
I'm such a brat because my parents love me so much. Sigh.
I've attempted to iron before (usually just jeans) and the results are errm.. better left unsaid. I have no idea how to get both sides perfectly smooth. Usually after I finish ironing, one side will be smooth and the other side will be less than smooth. And to date, I've ironed no more than 10 times.
When I was back in Miri, my housemates would make a freak production out of my ironing sessions. One by one, they would gather around my ironing board, making sarky comments in hushed, serious tones until I get really irritated and start threatening to iron their faces out.
Come to think of it, I seldom washed my school shoes last time. When they looked slightly grubby, I would pester my parents to buy me a new pair. And I remember begging my dad for a pair of Nike's once. He told me to wait one more month because we were going to Singapore then, and Nike's are really cheap in Singapore during sales. My mum bought me a horrid pair of Yasaki to wear while waiting for the Nike's. I remembered being so traumatized at being forced to wear something so 'cheap' that I cried. No joke. I told my mum I'd rather go to school without shoes than wear something un-branded.
Call me ungrateful but I never felt sorry for it. My parents never knew how difficult it was to survive socially in a upscale private school where everyone wore branded stuff with affectedl nonchalance. Yet, they would secretly scrutinized you up and down to see if you measure up to their level of wealth. If you were not rich, you'd better be as smart as hell to gain respect. If not, it was branded goods all the way to avoid being ostracized.
Although I've quite, quite discarded my air of arrogance and aloofness, I've never been able to resist the call of brandnames, something my parents find exasperating.
Mum : I wouldn't spend RM129.90 on that wallet. Some more, no discount.
Me : I can afford it, okay. Why do you think I work? So I afford nicer things in life.
Mum : You talk as if you're so rich.
Me : I'm just speaking the truth. Is it my fault if I have somewhat expensive tastes?
This type of conversation often took place when I was much younger.
Me : *Holding up t-shirt* Is this an original Hard Rock Cafe shirt?
Dad : Yes.
Mum : No. We bought it from Petaling Street.
Me : You guys lied to me!!
Dad : You think original Hard Rock Cafe shirt very cheap arh?
Me : Still, that's no excuse! You guys spend so much for your holiday and I just stayed at home! Is it too much to ask for an ORIGINAL Hard Rock Cafe shirt?!?
Mum : Don't be rude. That shirt you want to wear or not? If don't want, nevermind. I'll give it away to someone more appreciative.
Me : *Sulking* You can give it away. I don't want it. I'll get rashes if I wear anything unoriginal.
I was 12 or 13 years old back then.
Now that I'm working, my parents no longer cater to my whims. Except during my birthday when my dad bought me a pair of (expensive) Teva sandals. They were on sale and still they cost as much as the Nike's which my dad bought for my mum.
I'm such a brat because my parents love me so much. Sigh.
Sunday, September 18, 2005
WanderlustI have very nomadic work habits.
My first 'real' job (after my government training stint) took me to the hick town of Bintulu. That was when I was 22 or so and still all bright-eyed, eager beaver, can't wait to see the world. Prior to this, I never really left home. I've never studied away from my hometown before. For those who don't know where Bintulu is, it's this small, super-Foochow town located in Sarawak. The centre of the town consists of FOUR dusty rows of buildings. That's it. The majority of folks there speak either Mandarin or Foochow, which this 'banana' chick here DEFINITELY does not parlez-vous.
I have a degree in Comp Sci. And I ended up in Bintulu teaching English to a bunch of non-English speaking, snotty-nosed Form 1 and 3 brats at some private Chinese school. Oh, and did I mention this babe speaks no Mandarin? LOL!
The pay was good, but I only lasted 3 months because I was still very inexperienced and I was being traumatized by 13 and 15 years old kids bigger and taller than I am. Fuck, I even got 'hustled' by a 13 year old Casanova. It was hilarious.
Casanova : Miss... come over here.
Me : What do you want?
Casanova : How old are you, Miss?
Me : It's none of your business. Don't talk so much. Finish your exam paper first!
Casanova : Haiya, exam not important. Let's talk about us first...
Me : ..................... *wtf?!?*
After that, I came back to Kuching, bummed for 1 or 2 months, and then applied for another job that 'claimed' had branches in both Kuching and Miri. But during the interview, the boss told me,"We're opening the Miri branch first. Kuching branch probably next year or so. You still interested?"
Interested? Hell yeah. Anything to leave town again!
So this babe packed her bags and left to KL for a 2.5 months training stint, and then it was off to Miri to supervise the opening of branch. I lasted in Miri for more than a year before I succumbed to my mother's constant pestering to come home and study / get my 2nd degree.
Did I feel homesick while working away from home? Only in Bintulu (shamefully) I did. That was because the living conditions were crap and I had difficulty adapting. The rest, I didn't. I've never been the type to form strong family attachments.
Did I ever feel like quitting my job? Yes. All the time. But in the end I justified that my job is a small price to pay for my freedom. At home, I have to do chores, cook and all that. Some more, I have to watch my movements or else people will 'talk'. But away from home, in a foreign city, I'm just responsible for myself. I can live my life the way I want to.
Oh, and I was forced to pick up social skills working away from home. If you don't make friends, noone will bring you out shopping and clubbing and you're going to be one helluva lonely and sorrowful person. It was a grand lesson which I mastered super-fast.
Everybody should work away from home at least once in their lifetime. You'll never know what you're going to get. *Grins!*
My first 'real' job (after my government training stint) took me to the hick town of Bintulu. That was when I was 22 or so and still all bright-eyed, eager beaver, can't wait to see the world. Prior to this, I never really left home. I've never studied away from my hometown before. For those who don't know where Bintulu is, it's this small, super-Foochow town located in Sarawak. The centre of the town consists of FOUR dusty rows of buildings. That's it. The majority of folks there speak either Mandarin or Foochow, which this 'banana' chick here DEFINITELY does not parlez-vous.
I have a degree in Comp Sci. And I ended up in Bintulu teaching English to a bunch of non-English speaking, snotty-nosed Form 1 and 3 brats at some private Chinese school. Oh, and did I mention this babe speaks no Mandarin? LOL!
The pay was good, but I only lasted 3 months because I was still very inexperienced and I was being traumatized by 13 and 15 years old kids bigger and taller than I am. Fuck, I even got 'hustled' by a 13 year old Casanova. It was hilarious.
Casanova : Miss... come over here.
Me : What do you want?
Casanova : How old are you, Miss?
Me : It's none of your business. Don't talk so much. Finish your exam paper first!
Casanova : Haiya, exam not important. Let's talk about us first...
Me : ..................... *wtf?!?*
After that, I came back to Kuching, bummed for 1 or 2 months, and then applied for another job that 'claimed' had branches in both Kuching and Miri. But during the interview, the boss told me,"We're opening the Miri branch first. Kuching branch probably next year or so. You still interested?"
Interested? Hell yeah. Anything to leave town again!
So this babe packed her bags and left to KL for a 2.5 months training stint, and then it was off to Miri to supervise the opening of branch. I lasted in Miri for more than a year before I succumbed to my mother's constant pestering to come home and study / get my 2nd degree.
Did I feel homesick while working away from home? Only in Bintulu (shamefully) I did. That was because the living conditions were crap and I had difficulty adapting. The rest, I didn't. I've never been the type to form strong family attachments.
Did I ever feel like quitting my job? Yes. All the time. But in the end I justified that my job is a small price to pay for my freedom. At home, I have to do chores, cook and all that. Some more, I have to watch my movements or else people will 'talk'. But away from home, in a foreign city, I'm just responsible for myself. I can live my life the way I want to.
Oh, and I was forced to pick up social skills working away from home. If you don't make friends, noone will bring you out shopping and clubbing and you're going to be one helluva lonely and sorrowful person. It was a grand lesson which I mastered super-fast.
Everybody should work away from home at least once in their lifetime. You'll never know what you're going to get. *Grins!*
Friday, September 16, 2005
I am being exploitedI love being a Malaysian.
Hell, I love being a Sarawakian.
I love being a Sarawakian because we don't ask dumb Qs like our West M'sian counterparts do to us. For example:
"You from Sarawak? Wah... I heard you guys live on trees! True or not?"
(True. We even have elevators to access the penthouse on the treetops. Oh, and we don't drive cars. We use helicopters.)
"You from Sarawak? Can you speak Kadazan?"
(Tiu nia ma chow hai ah! You guys didn't study geography kah? If we can remember your Negrito and Senoi 'orang asli', I'm sure you guys can remember that Kadazans are from SABAH!)
My friend Aaron got slapped by this one:
"Eeeee... what are you speaking? Foochow...? Eeeee... why sound so like monkey language???"
(Hohohoho. Well, all I can say is SAN NI NAE KUYONG!!! *smirks*)
BUT
Because I am a Sarawakian and I work in Sarawak, I am being exploited.
Click HERE for more info.
I'm so devastatingly pissed.
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
Come 1st October, I'm sooooo going to bitchsmack my stingy chinaman boss.
Hell, I love being a Sarawakian.
I love being a Sarawakian even more back in those days when our West M'sian counterparts had to use their passports to enter Sarawak, but all we Sarawakians have to do is whip out our ICs and breeze through the immigration counters. That was before the implementation of the auto-gate thingy.
I love being a Sarawakian because unlike most KL people that I know, I can pronounce my V's perfectly. I absolutely do not womit after driwing a wan or a Wolwo wery fast up a wolcano. *snigger!*
I love being a Sarawakian because unlike most KL people that I know, I can pronounce my V's perfectly. I absolutely do not womit after driwing a wan or a Wolwo wery fast up a wolcano. *snigger!*
I love being a Sarawakian because we don't ask dumb Qs like our West M'sian counterparts do to us. For example:
"You from Sarawak? Wah... I heard you guys live on trees! True or not?"
(True. We even have elevators to access the penthouse on the treetops. Oh, and we don't drive cars. We use helicopters.)
"You from Sarawak? Can you speak Kadazan?"
(Tiu nia ma chow hai ah! You guys didn't study geography kah? If we can remember your Negrito and Senoi 'orang asli', I'm sure you guys can remember that Kadazans are from SABAH!)
My friend Aaron got slapped by this one:
"Eeeee... what are you speaking? Foochow...? Eeeee... why sound so like monkey language???"
(Hohohoho. Well, all I can say is SAN NI NAE KUYONG!!! *smirks*)
BUT
Because I am a Sarawakian and I work in Sarawak, I am being exploited.
Click HERE for more info.
I'm so devastatingly pissed.
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
Come 1st October, I'm sooooo going to bitchsmack my stingy chinaman boss.
Read here, you have been tagged
Today Inevitable tagged me.
I was so busy completing my Marketing assignment. But thank goodness, it's finished - all 29 pages of it.
Have to go to college tonight to hand it up. After that, I'll be going for dinner with Miss Melancholy Thongs, theGod, and The Last Virgin. Maybe we'll head to the karaoke after dinner. I so need to unwind...
I was so busy completing my Marketing assignment. But thank goodness, it's finished - all 29 pages of it.
Have to go to college tonight to hand it up. After that, I'll be going for dinner with Miss Melancholy Thongs, theGod, and The Last Virgin. Maybe we'll head to the karaoke after dinner. I so need to unwind...
Anyway, here goes:
Seven things you plan to do before you die:
1. Get married and have kids with large, sexy eyes
2. Go for Lasik surgery
3. Go for double eyelid surgery
4. Own a freakishly expensive Franck Muller watch
5. Travel around the world
6. Join the Mile High Club
7. Learn how to iron get my husband to do my ironing for the rest of my life
Seven things I could do:
1. Strike the 6/49 Jackpot and retire for life
2. Quit my job and survive on football betting
3. Be a participant on "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire"
4. Seduce a guy, his best friend, and his brother
5. Name 100 breeds of dog
6. Finish a 2 months assignment in 2 days and get an A for it
7. Blog
Seven Celebrity crushes:
1.
2.
3. Catherine Zeta-Jones
4. Viggo Mortensen
5. Edison Chen
6. Josh Hartnett
7. Mark McGrath
Seven often repeated words:
1. Fuck / Fucking / Fucker
2. Bloody
3. Shit
4. Apuuu...
5. Stupid / Doobid
6. Cunt
7. Ngegeh
Seven physical traits I look for in the opposite sex:
1. Huge, sexy eyes
2. Nice smile
3. Oh-so-kissable lips
4. Must be taller than me
5. Solid chest
6. Tight ass
7. Well-hung (okay lah, hung enough. No need the "well' in front)
Since I had to undergo this "torture", it's only fair that seven other people should suffer the same fate as me.
Seven tags go to:
1. Melancholy Thongs
2. theGod
3. snglguy
4. Beer Brat
5. seth.frostheart
6. chienne
7. Spot
Enjoy. *Evil grin!*
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
So how?Yesterday as I was blogging, my other indon colleague suddenly appeared at my desk. Now, this guy I don't really mind because he's relatively quiet and has never bugged me before. But then again, we've never really spoken to each other so I was very surprised to see him.
R : We need to update the news on the main page. Do you have new selections?
Me : *fumbling to minimize the blogger window* Errr.. you want them now?
R : Yes.
Me : Okay. I'll pass them to you in awhile.
(Awkward silence)
R : You use blogger?
Me : Huh..? Wh.. what..?
R : *Points to minimized blogger window in the taskbar* You use blogger? You blog?
Me : Errrrrr... yes... but very seldom lah... *crosses fingers*
R : Let me have your blog address?
Me : (OMFG!!!!! NOOOOOOOOOOO...!!!!!!!!!) Errrrrr... okay... later lah...
Now I'm caught in a sticky situation. R is my supervisor's housemate. And I've been indulging in trigger-happy rants about him in my past posts. So how?
I could use the Freedom of Speech excuse but since R caught me blogging at work, I don't think it's going to sit very well with Mr. Supervisor.
I could make an entirely new (fake) blog and pepper it liberally with cutesy wootsy poems and angelic bullpiss. But it's rather troublesome.
I could go on a deleting spree but what's the difference if the end result is a super-censored, virginal, PG-13 rated piece of crap which even I wouldn't touch with a 10 ft pole.
OR
I could lie very low and pray hard that R suddenly develops amnesia.
Sigh. This sooooooo doesn't get any better.
R : We need to update the news on the main page. Do you have new selections?
Me : *fumbling to minimize the blogger window* Errr.. you want them now?
R : Yes.
Me : Okay. I'll pass them to you in awhile.
(Awkward silence)
R : You use blogger?
Me : Huh..? Wh.. what..?
R : *Points to minimized blogger window in the taskbar* You use blogger? You blog?
Me : Errrrrr... yes... but very seldom lah... *crosses fingers*
R : Let me have your blog address?
Me : (OMFG!!!!! NOOOOOOOOOOO...!!!!!!!!!) Errrrrr... okay... later lah...
Now I'm caught in a sticky situation. R is my supervisor's housemate. And I've been indulging in trigger-happy rants about him in my past posts. So how?
I could use the Freedom of Speech excuse but since R caught me blogging at work, I don't think it's going to sit very well with Mr. Supervisor.
I could make an entirely new (fake) blog and pepper it liberally with cutesy wootsy poems and angelic bullpiss. But it's rather troublesome.
I could go on a deleting spree but what's the difference if the end result is a super-censored, virginal, PG-13 rated piece of crap which even I wouldn't touch with a 10 ft pole.
OR
I could lie very low and pray hard that R suddenly develops amnesia.
Sigh. This sooooooo doesn't get any better.
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
The Last Virgin"The Last Emperor" (1987) written by Mark Peploe and directed by Bernardo Bertolucci won 9 Oscars.
"The Last of the Mohicans" (1992) written by James Fenimore Cooper and directed by Michael Mann won an Oscar.
"The Last Samurai" (2003) written by John Logan and directed by Edward Zwick was nominated for 4 Oscars.
Moral of the Story: All you aspiring movie producers out there, just name your movie "The Last *fill in here*" and it's sure to win awards or at least get nominated. Why? Movie goers are overly thrilled to see the last of you and your cinematic bullcrap.
So, dear readers, it is my utmost pleasure to present to you excerpts from my latest script which I shall entitle "The Last Virgin", starring the last virgin herself and yours truly.
Excerpt 1
TLV : The first time you had sex, did it hurt?
Me : Of course it hurts!
TLV : Ewwwwww... what's the pain like?
Me : Your ears are pierced, right?
TLV : Err... yeah...
Me : Try taking your ear-studs out for a few days until the hole is partially closed. Then forcefully attempt to re-insert the stud into the hole. The pain is more or less like that but on a grander scale.
TLV : Aiyorrr... like that how to have sex!?!
Excerpt 2
TLV : Is there anything I can use or eat to make my pussy smell nicer?
Me : *frowns* What do you mean?
TLV : If it doesn't smell nice, won't a guy be turned off?
Me : Gosh, what do you want your pussy to smell like, then?
TLV : I don't know... strawberries?
Me : Fine. Go crush some strawberries and line them along your crack.
TLV : HAHAHAHA...
Me : Woman, a pussy is suppose to smell like a pussy.
TLV : Can I spray perfume instead?
Me : Spray WHAT?
TLV : Something that smells nice.. like cK?
Me : Good grief, whoever eats you is definitely going to die of food poisoning!
Excerpt 3
TLV : Why do condoms come in fruit flavours?
Me : Because it's considered cute and kinky?
TLV : Do guys like fruit flavoured condoms?
Me : I don't know. I guess some must like them or else why would condom manufacturers keep manufacturing these type of condoms.
TLV : Hmm... true also. I guess some guys do enjoy the fruity taste...
Me : ??????????? *wtf?*
Excerpt 4
TLV : Would a guy be turned off if he sees my boobs?
Me : What's wrong with your boobs?
TLV : They're so small, they're practically non-existent!
Me : If you feel self-conscious, you can always dim the lights or switch them off completely.
TLV : Ohhh... but won't they have difficulty locating the hole in the dark?
Me : Ah, that's why you should always keep a torchlight by your bedside just in case.
TLV : Hmm... eh, true also hor...
Me : ........... (Good grief, she actually bought it...)
"The Last of the Mohicans" (1992) written by James Fenimore Cooper and directed by Michael Mann won an Oscar.
"The Last Samurai" (2003) written by John Logan and directed by Edward Zwick was nominated for 4 Oscars.
Moral of the Story: All you aspiring movie producers out there, just name your movie "The Last *fill in here*" and it's sure to win awards or at least get nominated. Why? Movie goers are overly thrilled to see the last of you and your cinematic bullcrap.
So, dear readers, it is my utmost pleasure to present to you excerpts from my latest script which I shall entitle "The Last Virgin", starring the last virgin herself and yours truly.
Excerpt 1
TLV : The first time you had sex, did it hurt?
Me : Of course it hurts!
TLV : Ewwwwww... what's the pain like?
Me : Your ears are pierced, right?
TLV : Err... yeah...
Me : Try taking your ear-studs out for a few days until the hole is partially closed. Then forcefully attempt to re-insert the stud into the hole. The pain is more or less like that but on a grander scale.
TLV : Aiyorrr... like that how to have sex!?!
Excerpt 2
TLV : Is there anything I can use or eat to make my pussy smell nicer?
Me : *frowns* What do you mean?
TLV : If it doesn't smell nice, won't a guy be turned off?
Me : Gosh, what do you want your pussy to smell like, then?
TLV : I don't know... strawberries?
Me : Fine. Go crush some strawberries and line them along your crack.
TLV : HAHAHAHA...
Me : Woman, a pussy is suppose to smell like a pussy.
TLV : Can I spray perfume instead?
Me : Spray WHAT?
TLV : Something that smells nice.. like cK?
Me : Good grief, whoever eats you is definitely going to die of food poisoning!
Excerpt 3
TLV : Why do condoms come in fruit flavours?
Me : Because it's considered cute and kinky?
TLV : Do guys like fruit flavoured condoms?
Me : I don't know. I guess some must like them or else why would condom manufacturers keep manufacturing these type of condoms.
TLV : Hmm... true also. I guess some guys do enjoy the fruity taste...
Me : ??????????? *wtf?*
Excerpt 4
TLV : Would a guy be turned off if he sees my boobs?
Me : What's wrong with your boobs?
TLV : They're so small, they're practically non-existent!
Me : If you feel self-conscious, you can always dim the lights or switch them off completely.
TLV : Ohhh... but won't they have difficulty locating the hole in the dark?
Me : Ah, that's why you should always keep a torchlight by your bedside just in case.
TLV : Hmm... eh, true also hor...
Me : ........... (Good grief, she actually bought it...)
Monday, September 12, 2005
Office rantsI so friggin' hate my supervisor.
He knows perfectly well that if he doesn't hire a web designer to put up the site, there's no bloody way I can feature my news and editorials. But no, he insists that I collect news and stuff while waiting for the (non-existent) designer to come.
And so everyday I collect fresh news from the Net and add them to my ever-growing pile of backdated news.
Me : What's the point? Who the heck wants to read stale news?
Supervisor : Nevermind, still can add to the archive.
Me : .............. (you think we are operating a museum meh...)
I took MC last Saturday due to a very bad throat and nose infection. My voice is still all wonky and I'm coughing heaps of phlegm. And so the supervisor confronted me yesterday.
Supervisor : Where were you last Saturday?
Me : I was sick.
Supervisor : If it's just a small, small thing like cough, cold, or flu, don't take MC. Taukenio (Lady boss) doesn't like people to take MC. Just eat panadol good enough.
Me : *Sarcastically* What? You think I actually ENJOY being sick, ah?
Supervisor : No, it's not that. You cannot be so selfish. Other people don't take MC, so you also shouldn't take so much MC. Don't just think of yourself. You must think of the company too...
Me : .......................... (Fuck, what is this... trying to instill patriotism in me now, issit?)
Just wait. If he pisses me off some more with his bloody holier-than-thou attitude, I'll personally write a complain letter to the Head of the Immigration Dept and have the arsehole deported back to Indon. Bloody hell. I don't even think he has a valid work permit.
And I don't see why I have to bloody think of the company all the time. For the measly paycheck I'm drawing, they should be grateful I even show up to work SIX full days a week. My company doesn't reimburse my medical bills nor give me double pay for working every public holiday. Wait till I take all these *goodies* to the Labour Dept. Heh.
I'm so unafraid of my supervisor because he's Indonesian and I'm Malaysian. If anything, he should be nicer to all of us. After all, because of him, one Malaysian is deprived of a job. I'm sure those poor unemployed graduates would lurve to take up this case.
Stand back. I'm on a murderous streak today.
He knows perfectly well that if he doesn't hire a web designer to put up the site, there's no bloody way I can feature my news and editorials. But no, he insists that I collect news and stuff while waiting for the (non-existent) designer to come.
And so everyday I collect fresh news from the Net and add them to my ever-growing pile of backdated news.
Me : What's the point? Who the heck wants to read stale news?
Supervisor : Nevermind, still can add to the archive.
Me : .............. (you think we are operating a museum meh...)
I took MC last Saturday due to a very bad throat and nose infection. My voice is still all wonky and I'm coughing heaps of phlegm. And so the supervisor confronted me yesterday.
Supervisor : Where were you last Saturday?
Me : I was sick.
Supervisor : If it's just a small, small thing like cough, cold, or flu, don't take MC. Taukenio (Lady boss) doesn't like people to take MC. Just eat panadol good enough.
Me : *Sarcastically* What? You think I actually ENJOY being sick, ah?
Supervisor : No, it's not that. You cannot be so selfish. Other people don't take MC, so you also shouldn't take so much MC. Don't just think of yourself. You must think of the company too...
Me : .......................... (Fuck, what is this... trying to instill patriotism in me now, issit?)
Just wait. If he pisses me off some more with his bloody holier-than-thou attitude, I'll personally write a complain letter to the Head of the Immigration Dept and have the arsehole deported back to Indon. Bloody hell. I don't even think he has a valid work permit.
And I don't see why I have to bloody think of the company all the time. For the measly paycheck I'm drawing, they should be grateful I even show up to work SIX full days a week. My company doesn't reimburse my medical bills nor give me double pay for working every public holiday. Wait till I take all these *goodies* to the Labour Dept. Heh.
I'm so unafraid of my supervisor because he's Indonesian and I'm Malaysian. If anything, he should be nicer to all of us. After all, because of him, one Malaysian is deprived of a job. I'm sure those poor unemployed graduates would lurve to take up this case.
Stand back. I'm on a murderous streak today.
Sunday, September 11, 2005
Fade to blackI feel numb. The kind of numb you get when you've hurt till you can't hurt anymore and then you hit rockbottom. A queer sort of fearlessness creeps over me. I'm tired but I know it's from the medication - either those little white pills or the fatter green ones. Consume enough and I would probably drift into oblivion forever.
How very tempting.
His voice came through the phone,"Promise me you won't do something like that!"
I laughed sadly. No, I said. I can't promise you that.
"You've got to promise me... never, never kill yourself because of a guy!"
Sayang, surely you know me better than that. I would never kill myself because of a guy. But you're not "a guy". You're not just any ordinary guy. You're my guy and if I can't have you then I don't want to look anymore. I'm just so sick of starting anew all the time.
"Please don't this..."
Sayang, you know what my dad once told me? If I killed myself, I'll go straight to hell. Isn't that a hoot? Because in a way, it's murder. But what if I don't believe in the concept of heaven and hell? Where would I go?
I think I would prefer the Taoist/Buddhist belief. If I commited suicide, I would be a restless, wandering spirit forever doomed to haunt the place of my death. But at the rate I'm going, I'll probably be stuck in my bedroom forever. How boring.
"Don't talk like this, okay..."
I turned over and lay on my side, one arm outstretched. In the semi-darkness, my wrist gleamed a pale, preternatural glow. Corpselike - with delicate blue veins made even bluer in the haze of melancholia. What would it be like to do a razorbladelove, as Seth calls it, and watch my lifeblood ebb slowly but surely till the curtains fall and everything fades to black?
How very seductive.
"Don't do it please... I care about you so much. I love you..."
(Silence.) Don't say it unless you mean it, sayang.
"But I do mean it! I really, really love you..."
(Silence.) I don't need your pity.
"No... it's not like that. I don't want you to hurt yourself like this. I care about you too much. I'm so sorry for hurting you in the first place, sayang, and for all the times that I hurt you. Please forgive me... I love you so much..."
I sighed. Is this a classic case of "I love you came too late"? Maybe. But just not tonight.
Sayang, I'm so sorry about last night too. But you don't have to apologize for all the times you hurt me. Because I don't remember anymore. Because you see, when you love someone so much, you just don't keep track of the hurts, only of the good times shared...
"baby, join me in death..."Friday, September 09, 2005
set.adrift
and then i was outside looking in with kaleidoscope eyes. white love holocaust reduced the entire world's population to a single digit - not one, that's too selfish, aye? try two - just me and you. and together we stand outside looking in with rose-tinted tortoiseshell glasses, the type that hangs from a string of pearls around a kindly old lady's neck, the day she walked in on us splashing dark rum and molten lava passion on the kitchen walls.
i'd do anything to paint you stardust scarlet murder again, my love.
i'd do anything to paint you stardust scarlet murder again, my love.
Thursday, September 08, 2005
Peephole prettyI'm so shallow that way.
I never liked small, oriental eyes on my guys. Show me a pair of huge, deep-set, long-lashed peepers and I'll melt. That's probably the reason why I'm attracted to non-Chinese guys in the first place. I'm not going to have my kids suffer the same fate as their oriental-eyed momma.
I'm so shallow that way.
A running joke between Kel and I:
Me : Ayang, next time if our baby has small eyes, I'm going to throw him away.
Kel : *Gasp!* Cannot!!!
Me : *Pouts* Why cannot?
Kel : Because I said so. Our baby you also want to throw away?!?
Me : Only if he has small eyes. Eww. You like small eyes meh?
Kel : Like!! I like very much... *grins!*
Me : *Pouts* Fine. Then you look after the baby. I'm going out.
Like I said, I have an abnormal distaste for small eyes.
Until last Saturday.
I was out clubbing with the God when suddenly he peered at me and said wistfully,"You have very nice eyes..."
Me : What?
Him : I like your eyes... they're so nice...
Me : .....................
Me : What's so nice about my small eyes? Omg, you must be drunk...
Him : No, I'm not! I just like your eyes.. they're so pretty and they slant upwards so nicely...
Me : Huh... yeah, right!
But a quick sneak peek into my little mirror confirmed that yes, with copious amount of eye-shadow and eye-liner, my oriental eyes are rather *koff*attractive*koff*.
So maybe I won't be dropping my squinty-eyed babies at the orphanage after all. Heh.
I never liked small, oriental eyes on my guys. Show me a pair of huge, deep-set, long-lashed peepers and I'll melt. That's probably the reason why I'm attracted to non-Chinese guys in the first place. I'm not going to have my kids suffer the same fate as their oriental-eyed momma.
I'm so shallow that way.
A running joke between Kel and I:
Me : Ayang, next time if our baby has small eyes, I'm going to throw him away.
Kel : *Gasp!* Cannot!!!
Me : *Pouts* Why cannot?
Kel : Because I said so. Our baby you also want to throw away?!?
Me : Only if he has small eyes. Eww. You like small eyes meh?
Kel : Like!! I like very much... *grins!*
Me : *Pouts* Fine. Then you look after the baby. I'm going out.
Like I said, I have an abnormal distaste for small eyes.
Until last Saturday.
I was out clubbing with the God when suddenly he peered at me and said wistfully,"You have very nice eyes..."
Me : What?
Him : I like your eyes... they're so nice...
Me : .....................
Me : What's so nice about my small eyes? Omg, you must be drunk...
Him : No, I'm not! I just like your eyes.. they're so pretty and they slant upwards so nicely...
Me : Huh... yeah, right!
But a quick sneak peek into my little mirror confirmed that yes, with copious amount of eye-shadow and eye-liner, my oriental eyes are rather *koff*attractive*koff*.
So maybe I won't be dropping my squinty-eyed babies at the orphanage after all. Heh.
Peekaboo
Now that I've completed my 3 months probation, I'm officially a confirmed staff. And I get to wear the company's uniform.
Before this I wore whatever I liked to work. I enjoyed it. I went to work dressed like a beach bum/mall rat/lounge lizard and I got paid for it.
Now I have to wear this bloody red (pun intended) buttoned-up shirt with the company's logo attached to it. The first time I tried it on, I visibly flinched. For someone who's wardrobe consists of mainly funeral-approved colours, red is very threatening. Furthermore, there's no way I could wear this shirt without having to tuck it in because it ended slightly above my knees. And the boss wanted us to tuck in our shirts.
If I had my way, I would take the scissors and shorten the shirt to end a little below belt level. There... looks great and I don't have to bloody tuck in after that.
Toilet trips are no fun anymore. So troublesome.
Anyway, this morning as I was viewing myself in the full length mirror, I turned to glance at my side profile. Gasp! There was a see-through gap between the buttons! OMG, I didn't realise how baggy (yes, the boss had it specifically male-tailored) the shirt was. Till now.
So there I was looking through the button gap and pondering whether I should wear a singlet inside to cover up in case of *accidents*, when suddenly an old quote of mine hit me.
Before this I wore whatever I liked to work. I enjoyed it. I went to work dressed like a beach bum/mall rat/lounge lizard and I got paid for it.
Now I have to wear this bloody red (pun intended) buttoned-up shirt with the company's logo attached to it. The first time I tried it on, I visibly flinched. For someone who's wardrobe consists of mainly funeral-approved colours, red is very threatening. Furthermore, there's no way I could wear this shirt without having to tuck it in because it ended slightly above my knees. And the boss wanted us to tuck in our shirts.
If I had my way, I would take the scissors and shorten the shirt to end a little below belt level. There... looks great and I don't have to bloody tuck in after that.
Toilet trips are no fun anymore. So troublesome.
Anyway, this morning as I was viewing myself in the full length mirror, I turned to glance at my side profile. Gasp! There was a see-through gap between the buttons! OMG, I didn't realise how baggy (yes, the boss had it specifically male-tailored) the shirt was. Till now.
So there I was looking through the button gap and pondering whether I should wear a singlet inside to cover up in case of *accidents*, when suddenly an old quote of mine hit me.
"If you have it, flaunt it"
So I gave my reflection a sassy wink and headed off to work.
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
The Princess can't say noYesterday I semi-mocked Miss Melancholy Thongs about her past relationships.
Melancholy : There's a sign hanging over my head saying "Fucked up people, this way please".
Me : Nahhh.. You've got the word "charity" tattooed all over your forehead.
Me : And they think you're like the SSPCA, only that you take in humans instead of animals.
Melancholy : KNNCCB!!!
Anyway, last night as I was on my way to college, I received a call from Zul. To cut a long story short, my handsome boy is hellbent on getting a car. Problem is, he wants me to be his guarantor.
the God : Just say no. If you be his guarantor you'll never be able to get away from him. You'll be "tied down" with him for the next, what, 9 years???
Hing : SAY NO, OKAY!!! NO WAY!!! LATER IF HE CANNOT PAY, HOW?!? YOU DON'T GO LOOKING FOR TROUBLE FOR YOURSELF LAH!!!
Melancholy : Oh gawd, woman, NO!
Me : But I feel so bad... I'm so soft-hearted when it comes to him...
Melancholy : No.
Me : B.. b.. but..
Melancholy : Repeat after me. No.
Me : No.
Melancholy : Good. Yayyyyy...!!!! I'm so prouddddddddddd of you...!!!!
(Heh. I love my frens so very very very very the much!)
But my dad was the one who actually drove the nail home for me.
Dad : Until a person needs a guarantor, this means that the bank doesn't trust him to make his payments. And if the bank doesn't trust him, what makes you think you can trust him?
Actually, I had already said yes to Zul. Very unwillingly.
Zul : I'll fetch you tomorrow. Bring your IC, driver's license, and your payslip for 3 months.
Me : Arhh... 3 months? Cannot lah... I've only worked for 2.5 months.
I think he knew I was lying. But short of screaming expletives at him to get the hell out of my life, it was, at that point, my only graceful exit.
Sigh. I think I should get myself one of those "Fucked-up people, this way please" signs and hang it over my head too.
Melancholy : There's a sign hanging over my head saying "Fucked up people, this way please".
Me : Nahhh.. You've got the word "charity" tattooed all over your forehead.
Me : And they think you're like the SSPCA, only that you take in humans instead of animals.
Melancholy : KNNCCB!!!
Anyway, last night as I was on my way to college, I received a call from Zul. To cut a long story short, my handsome boy is hellbent on getting a car. Problem is, he wants me to be his guarantor.
the God : Just say no. If you be his guarantor you'll never be able to get away from him. You'll be "tied down" with him for the next, what, 9 years???
Hing : SAY NO, OKAY!!! NO WAY!!! LATER IF HE CANNOT PAY, HOW?!? YOU DON'T GO LOOKING FOR TROUBLE FOR YOURSELF LAH!!!
Melancholy : Oh gawd, woman, NO!
Me : But I feel so bad... I'm so soft-hearted when it comes to him...
Melancholy : No.
Me : B.. b.. but..
Melancholy : Repeat after me. No.
Me : No.
Melancholy : Good. Yayyyyy...!!!! I'm so prouddddddddddd of you...!!!!
(Heh. I love my frens so very very very very the much!)
But my dad was the one who actually drove the nail home for me.
Dad : Until a person needs a guarantor, this means that the bank doesn't trust him to make his payments. And if the bank doesn't trust him, what makes you think you can trust him?
Actually, I had already said yes to Zul. Very unwillingly.
Zul : I'll fetch you tomorrow. Bring your IC, driver's license, and your payslip for 3 months.
Me : Arhh... 3 months? Cannot lah... I've only worked for 2.5 months.
I think he knew I was lying. But short of screaming expletives at him to get the hell out of my life, it was, at that point, my only graceful exit.
Sigh. I think I should get myself one of those "Fucked-up people, this way please" signs and hang it over my head too.
Of blood, love, and successful marriages
So many female bloggers suffering from PMS/periods this week.
Finicky Feline, minishorts, michelle... just to name a few.
On the other hand, so many female bloggers are basking in the glow of new love.
Finicky Feline, michelle, Melancholy Thongs... just to name a few.
What do FF and michelle have in common? Their other halves are bloggers as well: PM-G and torment, respectively. And very recently (yesterday, to be more precise) Melancholy's dah-ling decided to demonstrate his blogging skills to the world.
Anyway, I was just *wondering* what it would be like to have a bf who blogs.
It would be rather interesting since Kel is soooo quiet most of the time. But writing/blogging is just not his cup of tea. He writes cute love poems because he knows I get amused easily by them. He writes me letters to accompany the presents he sends me from time to time. He writes reports in his company's log book. He fills in forms competently.
But blogging? No.
And I don't intend to ever have him find out about my blog. It's just too personal. Unless I take a hoover to it and destroy all the incriminating posts. Ugh.
*Takes a deep breath*
Honestly, I love Kel to bits. I'd take a bullet for him any day. But fuck all those "love doctor's advice" about coming clean and all. Some stuff are just meant to be private.
Dr House once said, "The most successful marriages are based on lies."
I'm so pondering on that one.
Finicky Feline, minishorts, michelle... just to name a few.
On the other hand, so many female bloggers are basking in the glow of new love.
Finicky Feline, michelle, Melancholy Thongs... just to name a few.
What do FF and michelle have in common? Their other halves are bloggers as well: PM-G and torment, respectively. And very recently (yesterday, to be more precise) Melancholy's dah-ling decided to demonstrate his blogging skills to the world.
Anyway, I was just *wondering* what it would be like to have a bf who blogs.
It would be rather interesting since Kel is soooo quiet most of the time. But writing/blogging is just not his cup of tea. He writes cute love poems because he knows I get amused easily by them. He writes me letters to accompany the presents he sends me from time to time. He writes reports in his company's log book. He fills in forms competently.
But blogging? No.
And I don't intend to ever have him find out about my blog. It's just too personal. Unless I take a hoover to it and destroy all the incriminating posts. Ugh.
*Takes a deep breath*
Honestly, I love Kel to bits. I'd take a bullet for him any day. But fuck all those "love doctor's advice" about coming clean and all. Some stuff are just meant to be private.
Dr House once said, "The most successful marriages are based on lies."
I'm so pondering on that one.
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
Bitchings (Part Deux)My boss has been looking for a web designer and an copywriter to assist me. Recently he asked the supervisor to advertise the vacancies in the papers. So far, only two people responded. One is a skinny (I mean rail-thin!) chick who applied for the designer position. But according to the supervisor, she's a no-go because her portfolio sucks. Heh.
The copywriter is another story.
Supervisor : Hey, someone applied for the copywriter position.
Me : Yeah? So how?
Supervisor : Err... not bad lah. She's...
Me : She? You mean she's a GIRL? *Weary sigh*
Supervisor : That's not my fault lah. Anyway, listen. Her English's pretty good. She just got back from Australia.
So, there I was... sitting at my desk with a disbelieving look on my face. Oh god, the new copywriter's an Australian graduate with killer English to boot. She's probably hot as well. I had images of Denise Keller dancing in my head... *whimper* How am I ever going to work with someone as hot as her?
Supervisor : There's errr... only one problem... *cough*
Me : What?
Supervisor : She's 53.
Me : OMFG!!!! *Muffled giggle*
Supervisor : Sssshhhhh!!!! Not so loud... later the boss hear!!!!
World's hottest copywriterReward for reading today's post. Here's Miss Keller for your viewing pleasure. Enjoy.
Monday, September 05, 2005
Tricky Qs - Cheat sheetTiger commented in my previous post:
"...I reckon ladies are being unfair when they ask the following questions:
1) Who is the hotter chick?
2) Do I look fat?
Both result in a no-win situation for the feller who is being asked those questions..."
Hohoho...! No win situation? Well, that's where you are wrong!
Q1) Who is the hotter chick?
Sure-win answer : You.
Q2) Do I look fat?
Sure-win answer : No.
After answering, the girl may or may not be happy. If she's happy, then you're home free. Change the topic as fast as possible.
If she's still dissatisfied, chances are she'll put you through some psychological double-speak torture, hoping to worm the truth out of you. Just try your very best not to get suckered into her trap. Always remember, even if she's holding a pistol to your head and a knife to your gut, STICK TO YOUR ANSWER!
And if you emerge alive from the torture chamber, take a deep breath, thank your lucky stars, give the poor girl a big reassuring hug, and take her out for sashimi and oysters at The Havana Club.
"...I reckon ladies are being unfair when they ask the following questions:
1) Who is the hotter chick?
2) Do I look fat?
Both result in a no-win situation for the feller who is being asked those questions..."
Hohoho...! No win situation? Well, that's where you are wrong!
Q1) Who is the hotter chick?
Sure-win answer : You.
Q2) Do I look fat?
Sure-win answer : No.
After answering, the girl may or may not be happy. If she's happy, then you're home free. Change the topic as fast as possible.
If she's still dissatisfied, chances are she'll put you through some psychological double-speak torture, hoping to worm the truth out of you. Just try your very best not to get suckered into her trap. Always remember, even if she's holding a pistol to your head and a knife to your gut, STICK TO YOUR ANSWER!
And if you emerge alive from the torture chamber, take a deep breath, thank your lucky stars, give the poor girl a big reassuring hug, and take her out for sashimi and oysters at The Havana Club.
(Well, at least the sashimi and oysters thingy works for ME!)
Bitchings
Excerpt from yesterday's MSN chat with erm.. let's just call him Burgundy Balls (BB) to protect his privacy, shall we?
BB : You were hot last Saturday night.
Me : Really?
BB : Absolutely. You should let down your hair more often.
Me : LOL. So who's hotter - me or TheOtherGirl (TOG)?
BB : Errrr.. Can't say lah. After all, I've tried one already.
Me : *Warily*..... What's that suppose to mean?
Me : *GASP!* You fucked TOG!!!
BB : Yeah. We were at D________ when she saw an ah kua (transvestite) hitting on me. It has always been her fantasy to see two guys getting it on. She got so horny that we both drove to the nearest hotel to get a room.
Me : She's good at giving head?
BB : Didn't get any.
Me : Oh, you ate her?
BB : Nope. No foreplay. She didn't need it. She was very wet already.
Me : So who's hotter - me or TOG?
BB : Erm. TOG.
Me : WHAAAAAAT? Hey, I've got much more sex appeal!
BB : Yeah, but she's got nicer legs.
Me : But her face... ewww... she's got this super overshot underjaw!!!
BB : Hey, I can forgo ALOT for a pair of a great legs...
Me : But that horrid jaw... *whimper*
BB : Aiya, it's just the face lah... hokkien say "bey bin" - horse face.
Me : But that JAW... *shudder*
Me : Don't tell me you kissed her!
BB : Yeah, I did.
Me : I'm appalled. How was it?
BB : Nothing different leh...
Me : Ewww.. It's soooo like kissing a drawer.
BB : ROFL!
Blog techies - I need help
Firefox users will understand my dilemma: My Live Bookmark icon (the one always located at the bottom right hand corner of the browser) is gone.
This is the God's blog. I worship this guy. He's hot.I'm being a creative ignoramus now but I *think* it has something to do with my Blogspot's RSS feed. It happened a couple of weeks back when I was over-enthusiastically installing my Google Adsense/NeoCounter/chatterbox all at one go.
Suddenly the Live Bookmark icon disappeared.
And this set off a chain reaction which really pisses me off. My blog is on a decline at Blogshares because Technorati and Wholinkstome cannot detect any of my incoming links which means I have less incoming "income".
I was contemplating changing my template and reinstalling all my ads, counters, etc. but it's really a big fat hassle and headache (right, Rozie? ;p) and I get cold feet thinking about it.
So is there anyone out there who's willing to help me?*Puts on sad puppy dog eyes*
Pwease, pwease... pwetty pwease?
Sunday, September 04, 2005
The Ice Queen bleedsDear Zul,
I saw you last night at CC. Was I happy to see you? Absolutely, eventhough you didn't reply my message when I asked you if you were going to be there.
With a girl prettier than me.
Is she Chinese like me, Zul? From a distance she sure looked like one. Is she your girlfriend? I bet she likes you alot. I can tell from the way she laughed at your antics. Not many girls can resist your charms, Zul. I know I can't.
Zul, did you see me dancing with Ian and Emil? I'm sure you did. After all, I orchestrated it so that you could get front row seats. How did you feel when you saw me trapped between the Emil and the wall, his body and his gyrating hips pressed hard against mine. Although you didn't show it, I bet you were jealous. I know you too well, Zul. You never liked to see me being touched by anyone else. I remember that night when I jokingly suggested a threesome with Lan. You got so angry and for once you turned your back on me...
Zul, I was fucking jealous when I saw you paying so much attention to that girl. Because at one point, I was THAT girl. I was your princess, the one you cared for the most, the one you loved to distraction.
After a little more than three months of not seeing you, I thought that I could bury our past. I thought that I could think of you as nothing more than just an ordinary guy friend. And boy, was I ever wrong.
I miss you, Zul. I miss you with a vengeance. Right now, i'm buried under a raging avalanche of memories of you. Your cheeky smile. Your hugs and kisses. The slick, sexy way you move on the dancefloor. The way your body remains incredibly scentless even after a night of heavy partying. The silk of your back. The smooth tautness of your tight arse - lord, I swear you are the reason Calvin Klein made boxers.
It hurts. I'm hurting so badly right now. But you'll never know because I don't want you to. I remember the pain you felt when you discovered you were not the only guy in my life. Truth is, you ARE not and WILL never be.
The cruel irony of this is that I want you back so much now. I know I can. And I'm willing to bet every single cent that I have that you won't be able to resist me. But I won't do it. Surprised? Don't be. Your princess knows better now.
It's a pity you won't be able to see the new me. I've more or less quit smoking (as you've always wanted me to) and I don't go clubbing much nowadays. Anyway, the less you know or hear of me, the better. It's alot easier on the heart and conscience.
So Zul, here's wishing you all the best in life. Follow your dreams. Don't stop looking for love and happiness. Don't worry about me, I'm alot tougher than you think. I've never cried for you before and I don't suppose I ever will. Ahh.. the benefits of being an ice queen.
And although I seldom told you before that I loved you, I meant it everytime I said it. And deep down inside, I still do.
Happy 26th birthday, handsome. And may all your birthday wishes come true.
I saw you last night at CC. Was I happy to see you? Absolutely, eventhough you didn't reply my message when I asked you if you were going to be there.
With a girl prettier than me.
Is she Chinese like me, Zul? From a distance she sure looked like one. Is she your girlfriend? I bet she likes you alot. I can tell from the way she laughed at your antics. Not many girls can resist your charms, Zul. I know I can't.
Zul, did you see me dancing with Ian and Emil? I'm sure you did. After all, I orchestrated it so that you could get front row seats. How did you feel when you saw me trapped between the Emil and the wall, his body and his gyrating hips pressed hard against mine. Although you didn't show it, I bet you were jealous. I know you too well, Zul. You never liked to see me being touched by anyone else. I remember that night when I jokingly suggested a threesome with Lan. You got so angry and for once you turned your back on me...
Zul, I was fucking jealous when I saw you paying so much attention to that girl. Because at one point, I was THAT girl. I was your princess, the one you cared for the most, the one you loved to distraction.
After a little more than three months of not seeing you, I thought that I could bury our past. I thought that I could think of you as nothing more than just an ordinary guy friend. And boy, was I ever wrong.
I miss you, Zul. I miss you with a vengeance. Right now, i'm buried under a raging avalanche of memories of you. Your cheeky smile. Your hugs and kisses. The slick, sexy way you move on the dancefloor. The way your body remains incredibly scentless even after a night of heavy partying. The silk of your back. The smooth tautness of your tight arse - lord, I swear you are the reason Calvin Klein made boxers.
It hurts. I'm hurting so badly right now. But you'll never know because I don't want you to. I remember the pain you felt when you discovered you were not the only guy in my life. Truth is, you ARE not and WILL never be.
The cruel irony of this is that I want you back so much now. I know I can. And I'm willing to bet every single cent that I have that you won't be able to resist me. But I won't do it. Surprised? Don't be. Your princess knows better now.
It's a pity you won't be able to see the new me. I've more or less quit smoking (as you've always wanted me to) and I don't go clubbing much nowadays. Anyway, the less you know or hear of me, the better. It's alot easier on the heart and conscience.
So Zul, here's wishing you all the best in life. Follow your dreams. Don't stop looking for love and happiness. Don't worry about me, I'm alot tougher than you think. I've never cried for you before and I don't suppose I ever will. Ahh.. the benefits of being an ice queen.
And although I seldom told you before that I loved you, I meant it everytime I said it. And deep down inside, I still do.
Happy 26th birthday, handsome. And may all your birthday wishes come true.
