Friday, April 28, 2006
What's that behind the shorts?I have to pop into Watsons after work to buy a bottle of mozzie repellent. Oh, and diarrhoea medicine - Dhamotil and Immodium - just in case. A strip of Panadol Actifast. A small box of Waterproof plasters.
And little winged prayers for each and every item purchased, in hope that I wouldn't have to use them.
Just now MK and I got back from lunch break very late because we were too caught up at Lea Centre's sports sale. We both bought a pair of Adidas slippers each. MK got herself a pair of Teva sandals (Yay! Now MK, Thongs, and I can form a Teva clan!) and I bought myself a pair of Adidas shorts.
Ooo.. there's a quirky story behind erm the shorts. Initially it was worn by the plastic mannequin, but I had the shop attendant take them off for me. Then I saw a different pair worn by another mannequin and I wanted to buy it, but all the shop attendants were busy. So MK and I decided to undress the mannequin ourselves.
MK: You lift the doll up and I'll try to take the shorts off.
Me: Okay. -tilts doll sideways-
MK: Oh! Wait-
Me: OMGWTF!!! DID YOU FUCKING SEE THAT?!? THE DOLL HAS A DICK!!! AARRGGGHHHH!!!
I shrieked and scampered off.
Indeed, the mannequin had a realistic-looking crotch area - contours, ridges and all. It was more obscene than hilarious.
Ewwch.
I'm afraid to go near the female mannequin now. She might even be unshaved.
Thursday, April 27, 2006
FinallyI'm back.
I'm knackered but happy because I've finished my industry report.
I'm happy because my birthday is soooo approaching (Everyone... mark 1st of May on your calendars!) and tomorrow night, some good people are going to buy me a sashimi dinner.
MK (who is rapidly morphing from colleague to surrogate mother) signed me up for church camp this weekend at Kubah National Park and I'm dreading every minute of it. I told MK that I don't want to go, but she steadfastly refuse to let me pull out.
I told her that I'm allergic to nature.
I told her that I'm allergic to roughing it out.
I told her that I'm allergic to rooming with a bunch of people whom I do not know very well.
The more I tell her about my allergies, the more deaf she gets.
AAAAAAAAAAAAARRRGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!
I seriously don't believe in paying good money to rough it out. I mean, what kind of sick logic is that?!?! It's different if I'm the one being paid to stay in the middle of nowhere, but...
Sigh.
MK says that's the whole idea of camp and it's going to be fun. Yeah, right. Sex in a 5-star hotel suite is fun. Best of all, the guy pays.
I'm effing traumatized and the only thing that's going to cheer me up is a super-expensive birthday gift. People, you now have a valid reason to go out and buy me a Porsche 911/iPod Video/Tiffany & Co charm bracelet/Fendi Spy Bag/[insert gift of choice with pricetag exceeding RM1000]
Heh.
Sunday, April 16, 2006
The drama queen plays frisbee"I'm not playing today, okay?" I told MK.
"But whyyyyyyyyyy?"
"I hate to sweat unnecessarily. Furthermore, I've already washed my hair this morning."
And then I take the usual pains as to give the impression that I'm NOT going to play frisbee. First of all, I purposely don't dress for the occasion. Secondly, I don't bring any basic after-sports stuff such as bottled water, towel, spare change etc. Thirdly, I lug along my ciggies. Get the message, guys. I'm coming here to watch YOU guys toss a bright yellow plate around while I sit in the shade and enjoy my cancer sticks. Geddit?
Unfortunately, they refuse to geddit.
The frisbee group start with the usual gentle cajoling, which I manage to turn a deaf ear to. Then they switch to guilt tactics ("But we don't have enough people on our teaaaaaaaam!"). Finally, someone would just yell, "Just play, okay!?!"
And I would trot off happily onto the field to play.
Frisbee is very fun. Super fun, actually. But being the drama queen that I am, I would openly declare how much I hate frisbee, and yet I would also be the one initiating practice sessions. I am probably the only player to proclaim how I'm going to die if I play one more match while enthusiastically bounding across the field to take my usual position.
I hate frisbee.
But I can't wait till Sunday. Yayness.
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
A day at the beach
I am urban jungle born and bred. All modern amenities I tend to take for granted. Okay, I do love the beach but ONLY if it's attached to a nice resort with proper living facilities. So when Thongsie invited me along on a boat trip to some secluded beach, the first thing I asked was, "Are there any bathroom facilities?"
"Don't be silly," she replied, "The beach is uninhabited. No jetty there, either... so you might want to pack really light."
"Why?"
"Because we have to jump from the boat into the water and wade to the shore."
WTF?!?!
Tanjung Keruing is very pretty, with pale sand and clear turquoise water. And yes, it is very secluded.
This is Anson. He's Thongsie's church friend who followed us on the trip. Notice the stream that he's wading in? It's full of little fishes. Eww. Anson wanted to catch one to examine it upclose, but he failed. I laughed.
"I'll pay you RM20 if you can catch one!" he challenged.
I laughed even more.
We played frisbee. Or rather, water frisbee. Since I'm allergic to the sun, MK volunteered to stand on the sand, while I positioned myself in the stream. Aaahh.. nice and shady, but running through the water to catch a frisbee can be a real bitch.
This is literally a Greek god. The pictures don't do him justice, but I swear... he's hawt hawt hawt!!!
*SwoooOOOOooooOOOOooooOOOOooon!* Besides rock climbing, he's ace at frisbee as well. Some people are just blessed with perfect coordination (and looks).
I am really tanned now. My mother was horrified. "Didn't you use your long sleeved shirt on the boat?!?" she half-shrieked.
"Of course I did!" I lied.
"Look at your ears! They're red! And your face... look at your face..."
I ignored her.
"You better apply more moisturiser! Make sure it's the intensive care type. And apply it to your ears as well!"
Sigh.
My right arm hurts (from frisbee) and I've got two horried sandfly bites (itchy and painful). But yups, this city girl had lots of fun at the beach.
*All photos featured in this post were taken by melancholy thongs.
Monday, April 10, 2006
Beautiful freakNot sea salt though. Tears.
Her slender milkwhite wrists had been artistically glorified in the name of suicide, and she did nothing to hide the multitude of scarlet tracks. In fact, she seemed to take morbid pride in them. It was her defiant way of saying, "I know how much my life is worth. But do you know yours?"
Unable to avert my eyes, I concentrated on one particular track that seemed longer and deeper than the rest. "Did that hurt?" I finally spoke up.
She shook her head before looking directly at me. Once again, I was floored by her fiery good looks. "Pain is highly subjective," she spoke with amazing clarity.
I stared at her, pure disbelief painted on my face. "You stupid bitch."
"But aren't we all?"
Unable to continue her calm facade, she threw her head back and laughed full, throaty and rich. The long afternoon sunbeam reflected random iridescent crystals in her jet black hair, and for a tiny second, the raccoon rings and scarlet tracks faded from view...
I'll not be blogging regularly till end of this month.
Work and studies beckon.
I have to work on my disjointed, free-flow compositions.
Random is good.
Random is god.
...and she was still laughing when I shut the door of the padded cell firmly behind me and turned the key in the lock.
Sunday, April 09, 2006
Dirty little secretsI'm downright disgusted.
She didn't intend for anyone to find out, I guess. It just so happened that someone caught her red-handed and that particular someone immediately reported to someone else, who immediately reported the incident to me.
My initial reaction was sheer disbelief. How could she have been so.. so.. obvious?!? Then I felt sick in the gut. The magnitude of the information is on par with a timebomb. It's just a matter of time before it detonates, and being privy to this shitty piece of information means that my fingerprints are automatically on the red button. There's just no escaping. And chances that the bombsquad successfully disarm the timebomb is currently erm zero.
The subject of the information is a good friend of mine. And I am damn pissed at her for trying to rope me into the situation. "But.. how can I be honest with you if you're not going to be honest with me?" she whispered coyly when trying to gauge how much I knew.
Bitch.Do.Not.Play.Games.With.Me.
If you do not have the capability to keep your own ass clean, don't even bother offering me tissue paper. After all, you'll need every bit of it to construct a shelter when shit hits the fan.
Thursday, April 06, 2006
Late night gay parklifeFor those who not so well-versed with the park's late night inhabitants, here's a basic list:
1. Prowlers: Like their titles, they prowl the park - actively checking out the local male scenery.
2. Stake-outs: Stake-outs stay motionless at one spot, hoping to pounce on a juicy prowler.
3. Benchers: A subset of stake-outs. Benchers hunt from the comfort of the numerous benches located around the park.
4. Bikers/Mat motor: Bikers can be either prowlers or stake-outs, but they never go anywhere without their helmets. Usually Malay, but once a Chinese biker attempted to chat-up AT. It wasn't a pretty scene. AT fled.
5. Wolves: Like bikers, wolves can either prowlers or stake-outs, but they hunt in packs. Unfortunately, their hunts are seldom fruitful because no idiot would want to singlehandedly approach a pack of wolves. It's too intimidating. The majority of wolves tend to be younger, insecure males.
Trying to spot people in the park at night is like playing a morbid version of Where's Wally. Sometimes you can't see them until they move. The tall trees and long shadows are excellent camouflages. I've seen a bencher getting a blowjob before. I've seen deliciously hawt guys there. Some of my gay friends are park-pickups. The most interesting thing about this park is that there is an invisible boundary that separate gay and straight territory. Straight territory is the area in front of the warrior's monument, while the gays hang out anywhere behind (no pun intended).
There's this once I saw a supposedly straight colleague there, and we both freaked out. Actually I freaked out more than him... but that's another story for another day.
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
Hot Ben Ibrahim... can hold his drink?
I am seriously in lust with this guy. Ben Ibrahim - Contestant #33 for Cleo's 50 Most Eligible Bachelors 2006. Vote for him, you bitches!
Oh, and I just realized that like my ex, this guy is malay, 28 years old, and a Libra. Hmm.
A little bit of useless trivia here because I don't know what else to write: Contestant #8 is Lincoln Liew. He's from Kuching (Yay! Agik idup agik ngelaban! Bwahahahahaha!) and MK and I were soooo shocked when we saw his face in the mag.
"Omg, he looks better in the mag than in real life!" said MK.
Anywayyyyy, the fella used to be from my school. He wasn't interesting back then so we'll fast forward to one night last year when Thongs, MK and I went clubbing at SoHo. Thong's nephew CS was there. Towards the end of the night, everyone was merrily tipsy. Thongs got up to search for CS to say goodbye to him... and guess what?
CS was drunk. Not the giggly drunk kinda drunk, but more like the unconscious, I'm-so-puking-on-myself kinda drunk. He couldn't even walk. Hell, he couldn't even sit straight. He had wet puke all down the front of his shirt and he was THIS close to blacking out. Worse still, all his friends abandoned him - except for Contestant #8, Mr Liew.
We practically hauled/dragged him to Thong's car. All of us were pretty nervous, except for Lincoln who was talking and talking non-stop. Come to think of it, it was pretty hilarious backseat scene - a worried MK looking out of the window, a worried me hoping that CS would not puke anymore in the car, and a happy Lincoln going on and on about everything topic under the sun.
And then there's the part where the security guard outside CS' mansion wouldn't open the gate for us until Lincoln went down and told the guard that the young master was pissed drunk in the car...
And the part where Thongs and Lincoln had to haul CS up to his bedroom, while MK and I stood outside admiring the giant stone lion statues guarding the main door and the bonsai garden...
And the part when we had to drive CS' dad to the club so that he could drive CS' car home...
The moral of story: When drinking to cure depression, do stick to Coke (or extremely watered-down vodka lime) like yours truly.
Monday, April 03, 2006
I suppose...
Kate Hudson as Penny Lane.I love her.
Lord, I need to get myself a hawt younger bro too. Sigh.
I could write about my new bible (I tell you there's nothing like spending hard-earned cash on God's words), Sunday morning church service that went into serious overtime until I almost died of hunger, and the cutest boy in church who unfortunately is off-limits because he's only 21 and he has a girlfriend.
I could write a million words, do a million things, think a million thoughts... but I'm tired and there's a dull, nagging ache at the back of my head. Being stuck in a rut has a tremendously adverse effect on me. I feel the urge to flee home.
To be with myself again.
*smiles quietly*
I will not live in fear
Of what may be
And the lessons I have learned...
I would rather be alone than watch you
Spinning that wheel for me..."
Spinning The Wheel
George Michael
