Hedonistics Anonymous
Friday, October 31, 2008
FickleI suck at this.
See right, first I ask for some expensive present (in colors and CAPS some more weii) and then when B offers to get it for me, I get this buried by this SUPER HUGE AVALANCHE OF GUILT that makes me want to beat myself up for being such a demanding person.
Cannot like this lah.
B, don't buy PSP for me. I think I don't want liao. :)
Hello weekend.
See right, first I ask for some expensive present (in colors and CAPS some more weii) and then when B offers to get it for me, I get this buried by this SUPER HUGE AVALANCHE OF GUILT that makes me want to beat myself up for being such a demanding person.
Cannot like this lah.
B, don't buy PSP for me. I think I don't want liao. :)
Hello weekend.
Labels: drama queen
Thursday, October 30, 2008
All I want for Christmas is...B, FOR CHRISTMAS I WANT A NINTENDO DS.
AND I WANT IT EITHER IN BLACK OR PINK.
BLUE ALSO CAN.
RED ALSO CAN.
ACTUALLY ANY COLOUR WOULD DO, AS LONG AS IT IS A NINTENDO DS.
Don't say I didn't tell you in advance. You can start saving up for it now.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
Then again, I'll probably change my mind in about an hour's time.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
How very twisted I amIt's your wedding night. After the prerequisite conjugal activities with your husband, he rolls over to sleep, spent and satiated.
You, on the other hand, have another job to do. Your heart pounds like a triphammer as you put on some clothes and sneak out of the bedroom.
You proceed to tiptoe quietly to the first guest room down the corridor. Someone is waiting in there.
Naked.
Your favourite ex. The one who treated you the best, perhaps even better than the man you're currently married to, but for some reason the relationship didn't work out. Oh well, c'est la vie, there's always tonight.
You make him cum in you.
When all is said and done, you hasten him out the backdoor, giving him one final bite on the lower lip. It hurts but it's good pain. Happy pain.
Whipping out your cellphone, you hurriedly type "Im ready. Meet me 8 d door" and send it to this number, a number that you've stored in your phone for 10 over years, but never dared to dial or text. But it's all coming to an end tonight.
He's waiting at the front door, looking as good as he did when you first laid eyes on him ten years ago. Where did you first meet him? Don't remember, don't care. It's not puppylove, or whatever love that creates stars and sparkles in the sky. It's pure, unadulterated lust and you know damn well that you're going to get more than you wish for tonight with the guy you've always wanted to fuck.
Again, you make him cum in you.
3 different men in one night. 3 different sets of DNA. Whose is it?
The wait begins.
You, on the other hand, have another job to do. Your heart pounds like a triphammer as you put on some clothes and sneak out of the bedroom.
You proceed to tiptoe quietly to the first guest room down the corridor. Someone is waiting in there.
Naked.
Your favourite ex. The one who treated you the best, perhaps even better than the man you're currently married to, but for some reason the relationship didn't work out. Oh well, c'est la vie, there's always tonight.
You make him cum in you.
When all is said and done, you hasten him out the backdoor, giving him one final bite on the lower lip. It hurts but it's good pain. Happy pain.
Whipping out your cellphone, you hurriedly type "Im ready. Meet me 8 d door" and send it to this number, a number that you've stored in your phone for 10 over years, but never dared to dial or text. But it's all coming to an end tonight.
He's waiting at the front door, looking as good as he did when you first laid eyes on him ten years ago. Where did you first meet him? Don't remember, don't care. It's not puppylove, or whatever love that creates stars and sparkles in the sky. It's pure, unadulterated lust and you know damn well that you're going to get more than you wish for tonight with the guy you've always wanted to fuck.
Again, you make him cum in you.
3 different men in one night. 3 different sets of DNA. Whose is it?
The wait begins.
Warning: This is a work of FICTION. Couples (single or married) please DO NOT try this at home. I shall not be held responsible for any breakups or divorces that result after partaking in this twisted slice of fanstasy.
Labels: dreams, fiction, twisted
Thursday, October 23, 2008
And the worms... they eat you up from insideThanks to friends who introduced me to the joys of watching videos like this and this, I'm slightly obsessed with the amount of wormy parasites residing inside my body...
...which ultimately led to the purchase Zoben last night at Guardian Pharmacy.
Why Zoben and not Zentel?
Zoben (Pharmaniaga) is made in Selangor, Malaysia and cost RM4.10 for 2 tablets.
Zentel (GlaxoSmithKline) is made in Tianjin, China and cost RM7.10/RM7.30 for 2 tablets.
Both contain 200mg Albendazole per tablet.
Sorry GSK, but I just don't trust China-made products at the mo.
Anyway, I got home and downed two tablets with water. Then I started the long wait. From what I've garnered online, it's advisable to undergo deworming once every year, but some fanatics do it once every six months. Me? I've never been dewormed before. Obviously concerns about worms ain't high on my parents' list.
You know the most torturous part about deworming? It's the waiting. I went through the intructions in the Zoben pack countless times and all they described was what Albendazole did to the worms. Very technical and boring stuff. But they didn't mention what to expect when you drop some timber the next morning.
Every time I went to the toilet to pee, I imagined a half-poisoned worm dangling halfway out from my arsehole, squirming furiously and gasping. Every time I felt the slightest need to do a number two, I would ask myself, "Do you really want to go? Do you REALLY want to see what comes out?" Every time I felt a slight tingle on my butt, I think of pinworms going into a mass egg-laying frenzy.
When I woke up this morning, I downed 1.2 litres of water to induce faster bowel movements. After I walked and fed the dog, my lower abdomen cramped slightly. I downed an extra cup of water for good measure and headed to the loo.
*NOTE: If you're queasy, please stop reading. If you're queasy but curious, consider yourself warned!*
Ok, now I was in the loo and my tummy was cramping up good and without hesitating, I forced everything out down south. Fast and furious, like a tsunami. NO WAY was I letting any worms cling and crawl back in. Everything had to come out. NOW.
I dared myself to look into the toilet bowl.
Hmm.
There was just... shit. No worms. And no, I was nowhere near morbid enough to do a home fecal test with a stick.
I was disappointed. I was expecting to be grossed out so bad and all I got was shit. Literally.
I think I'll try again tonight.
...which ultimately led to the purchase Zoben last night at Guardian Pharmacy.
Why Zoben and not Zentel?
Zoben (Pharmaniaga) is made in Selangor, Malaysia and cost RM4.10 for 2 tablets.
Zentel (GlaxoSmithKline) is made in Tianjin, China and cost RM7.10/RM7.30 for 2 tablets.
Both contain 200mg Albendazole per tablet.
Sorry GSK, but I just don't trust China-made products at the mo.
Anyway, I got home and downed two tablets with water. Then I started the long wait. From what I've garnered online, it's advisable to undergo deworming once every year, but some fanatics do it once every six months. Me? I've never been dewormed before. Obviously concerns about worms ain't high on my parents' list.
You know the most torturous part about deworming? It's the waiting. I went through the intructions in the Zoben pack countless times and all they described was what Albendazole did to the worms. Very technical and boring stuff. But they didn't mention what to expect when you drop some timber the next morning.
Every time I went to the toilet to pee, I imagined a half-poisoned worm dangling halfway out from my arsehole, squirming furiously and gasping. Every time I felt the slightest need to do a number two, I would ask myself, "Do you really want to go? Do you REALLY want to see what comes out?" Every time I felt a slight tingle on my butt, I think of pinworms going into a mass egg-laying frenzy.
When I woke up this morning, I downed 1.2 litres of water to induce faster bowel movements. After I walked and fed the dog, my lower abdomen cramped slightly. I downed an extra cup of water for good measure and headed to the loo.
*NOTE: If you're queasy, please stop reading. If you're queasy but curious, consider yourself warned!*
Ok, now I was in the loo and my tummy was cramping up good and without hesitating, I forced everything out down south. Fast and furious, like a tsunami. NO WAY was I letting any worms cling and crawl back in. Everything had to come out. NOW.
I dared myself to look into the toilet bowl.
Hmm.
There was just... shit. No worms. And no, I was nowhere near morbid enough to do a home fecal test with a stick.
I was disappointed. I was expecting to be grossed out so bad and all I got was shit. Literally.
I think I'll try again tonight.
Labels: deworming, worms, zentel, zoben
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
We're not hamster owners. We're hamster parents.[12:29 am] B: Baby, you playing with Bella?
[12:31 am] Me: No. Washing her potty and cage because she cincai pee again.
[12:32 am] B: Oh dear.
[12:36 am] Me: Yeah.
[12:37 am] B: Ok, you carry on first.
[12:37 am] Me: Just finished.
[12:38 am] B: You take a rest first.
[12:38 am] Me: She's lucky she's extremely cute.
[12:40 am] B: Yes I agree.
[12:42 am] Me: Or else hamsters would've been extinct a long long time ago. I have not exactly discovered the true purpose of hamsters. Apart from being cute, they aren't exactly useful.
[12:43 am] B: Better not let Bella hear that.
[12:50 am] Me: You want to scold her for being naughty?
[12:51 am] B: Just give her stern warning would do.
[12:52 am] Me: Ok, you warn her.
[12:52 am] B: Ok, warned her already.
[12:53 am] Me: What did you tell her?
[12:53 am] B: It's our secret.
[12:54 am] Me: :(
[12:55 am] B: Don't worry, I also said nice things about you :)
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Because I REALLY have nothing better to doLe list
Mood: Calmly irritated or irritatingly calm.
Outfit: Office togs. Striped buttoned-down shirt, black skirt, bra and panties.
Shoes: Black heels.
Lips: Dry.
Best thing about last weekend: Uhm. I bought eight cups of yogurt for the dog. Two of them are grape-flavored. He'd better like them or else I'm gonna be real pissed.
Nails: Finally cut them or else boyfriend wouldn't play with me.
Hair product I’m loving: My Origins Clear Head® Mint Conditioning Rinse. It's like soaking your scalp in a tub of ice.
Book I’m reading: J.G. Ballard's The Kindness of Women *insert benevolent look here*
Body Lotion: Bath & Body Works Midnight Pomegranate. Damn potent stuff. The whole office smells of it now. Someone reported to me that even the boss lifted his head for a second to sniff the air.
Goals for the week: At least 3 during futsal this coming Saturday.
(Ripped from here)
Would it be blatantly shameless of me to admit that I love my own sense of humor?
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Now you know whyAttended Irene's grandmother's funeral just now.
We sneaked out for a smoke and I asked her how many surviving grandparents she have left.
"Two," she told me, "My dad has been asking me to visit my grandparents on his side more often. Especially my grandpa, coz he's getting very old."
I've only got my maternal grandmother left.
Ironically, reading Irene's post regarding her grandmother, I was reminded about how my grandmother taught me how to make tong yuen - pink and white flour balls. Yes, with peanut fillings too. I think it's a Cantonese thing.
My grandmother also taught me how to play mahjong. I was 11 or 12 at that time. During school hols when I wasn't sent to Sibu, my parents would send my sis and I to grandmother's house. One day, she was so bored and itching to play mahjong, but there wasn't anyone to play with her. Desperate, she eventually and reluctantly taught me how to play. But before that she made me PROMISE over and over again that I WAS NOT TO PLAY MAHJONG WITH ANYONE ELSE. Can only play with her with her. Nobody else. And MAHJONG IS A FORM OF GAMBLING AND GAMBLING IS VERY BAD FOR CHILDREN. Very bad. That's why cannot play with other people. She repeated it throughout the game even though we only played with the small red chips and there were only two of us and I hardly understood the technical mahjong terms in Cantonese apart from the "pong" and the "kong".
And when I was finally sent to Sibu during another school hols, I amazed my paternal grandmother with my ability to play mahjong. Nevermind that I was really crap at it and kept making mistakes and eventually needed my father to rescue me from sticky situations (I never knew how to form a winning combo of tiles), my paternal grandmother was inwardly delighted to have a new mahjong partner. When I didn't want to sleep early, I would casually ask her if she wanted to play mahjong and immediately she would force my grumbling aunties to set up the table and all four of us would play one round or two.
My paternal grandmother died of cancer I think in 98 or 99. Have to check my diary for the exact year. I didn't attend her funeral, I forgot why. Probably got tied down with college assignments or exams. Looking back, I wish I attended her funeral. Admittedly, I love her more than I love my paternal grandfather. Somewhere in memory I remember her asking me fondly, "You still remember how to play mahjong? Come back to Sibu more often ok? Then you can play mahjong with Ma-ma."
I still hate Sibu but I love mahjong. And true to my past, I still play it badly. :)
We sneaked out for a smoke and I asked her how many surviving grandparents she have left.
"Two," she told me, "My dad has been asking me to visit my grandparents on his side more often. Especially my grandpa, coz he's getting very old."
I've only got my maternal grandmother left.
Ironically, reading Irene's post regarding her grandmother, I was reminded about how my grandmother taught me how to make tong yuen - pink and white flour balls. Yes, with peanut fillings too. I think it's a Cantonese thing.
My grandmother also taught me how to play mahjong. I was 11 or 12 at that time. During school hols when I wasn't sent to Sibu, my parents would send my sis and I to grandmother's house. One day, she was so bored and itching to play mahjong, but there wasn't anyone to play with her. Desperate, she eventually and reluctantly taught me how to play. But before that she made me PROMISE over and over again that I WAS NOT TO PLAY MAHJONG WITH ANYONE ELSE. Can only play with her with her. Nobody else. And MAHJONG IS A FORM OF GAMBLING AND GAMBLING IS VERY BAD FOR CHILDREN. Very bad. That's why cannot play with other people. She repeated it throughout the game even though we only played with the small red chips and there were only two of us and I hardly understood the technical mahjong terms in Cantonese apart from the "pong" and the "kong".
And when I was finally sent to Sibu during another school hols, I amazed my paternal grandmother with my ability to play mahjong. Nevermind that I was really crap at it and kept making mistakes and eventually needed my father to rescue me from sticky situations (I never knew how to form a winning combo of tiles), my paternal grandmother was inwardly delighted to have a new mahjong partner. When I didn't want to sleep early, I would casually ask her if she wanted to play mahjong and immediately she would force my grumbling aunties to set up the table and all four of us would play one round or two.
My paternal grandmother died of cancer I think in 98 or 99. Have to check my diary for the exact year. I didn't attend her funeral, I forgot why. Probably got tied down with college assignments or exams. Looking back, I wish I attended her funeral. Admittedly, I love her more than I love my paternal grandfather. Somewhere in memory I remember her asking me fondly, "You still remember how to play mahjong? Come back to Sibu more often ok? Then you can play mahjong with Ma-ma."
I still hate Sibu but I love mahjong. And true to my past, I still play it badly. :)
Wednesday, October 08, 2008
I'm blogging only because I'm down with a sorethroat and flu
Le Agnes B tote. Bobby knows damn well that he isn't allowed into the house, but that doesn't stop him from pushing his luck, or me (and my mother) inviting him in just for fun.
Once, he got into the kitchen and flopped down in the most dramatic manner of, well, a dead dog. Accompanied with floppy limbs and side-hanging tongue. I tried dragging him out, but he just wouldn't budge. Finally my father chased him out with the cane.
But on days when he's just had his bath, he's sort of allowed into the house. Sort of.
Once, he got into the kitchen and flopped down in the most dramatic manner of, well, a dead dog. Accompanied with floppy limbs and side-hanging tongue. I tried dragging him out, but he just wouldn't budge. Finally my father chased him out with the cane.
But on days when he's just had his bath, he's sort of allowed into the house. Sort of.
Saturday, October 04, 2008
Handbag PlanetRegister and win yourself a free handbag at www.handbagplanet.com
According to the website, upon launching on the 15th of October, the kind folks of Handbag Planet will be giving away ONE free handbag every hour for 24 hours. And mind you, all 24 bags are different. So give it a shot and win a free bag.
I'm loving bag #10, #20 and #21 :)
Btw, Miss Thongs bought me a Agnes B. Voyage tote for my birthday. Thank you womansie, me love your boobies long time! But then hor, I'm expecting nothing less than a Bottega from you next year, ok? *muka tebal grin!*
