i got game

Ah god.

I've gotten so bored that I went and bought a couple of PC games. Nothing new, nothing fancy: The Sims 2 (and the full expansion pack), Silent Hill: Homecoming and guess what, a Nancy Drew game. I bought it on the pretext of letting my 11-year-old sister play it. Get her more interested in reading Nancy Drews or something. (The kid needs to read more.) But observe the word 'pretext'.

What does that tell you?

That I'm the one who actually wants to play the blasted Nancy Drew game. That's why I bought it.

Nancy Drew: The Haunting of Castle Malloy

Heroine: Nancy Drew
Supporting cast: George and Bess (their last names can never be remembered by anyone)
Villain: Some Ghost Thing
Location: Castle Malloy

One jolly good day, detective wannabe Nancy Drew and her two girl friends, the athletic (and oft mistaken for a man due to her name) George and somewhat-dimwitted Bess goes tripping in Ireland and end up at some castle called Castle Malloy.

As the story usually goes, old abandoned castles always make for a good place to run a syndicate for counterfeit money or a place to stow away stolen antiques so upon taking shelter from the rain, Nancy and co. 'accidentally' stumbles onto a mystery.

Which involves Some Ghost Thing that don't want them around but as usual, after a few spooky encounters that involve getting locked up in the dungeon, groped by a cold hand in the dark and etc. Nancy, with her super intelligence solves the riddle and behold, Some Ghost Thing is as scary as an old hag with bad makeup under good lighting!

Or so the story should be.

Exciting.

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attack of the idiots

GOD.

I just needed to vent.

Let me be racist for five minutes.

I fucking hate fucking stupid Chinese guys who don't understand the meaning of the word 'MIND'.

Stupid Chinese guy: Hey, mind to chat ah?
Me: Yes, I do mind.
Stupid Chinese guy: So where you coming from?

Fucking hell. Don't use the word if you bloody don't know what it means. Now I feel tired from all the tongue lashing I hurled at the retarded bugger. Fucking hell indeed. I don't need this kind of harrasment.

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the ex-files

I've been contacting my ex recently and we were talking about making plans to meet up for drinks. The last time I saw him was last April and we weren't on talking terms at all until maybe around the time when my mom got admitted into the hospital for dengue. When was this? Maybe a month ago?

So well, being the ass that he is, he has been making 'jokes' suggesting we get drunk and check into a room. Shit like that.

I don't put up with shit like that.

I told him flat out that there is no way in hell I'm going to hop into bed with him, no strings attached or not. He was lousy in bed. He never gave oral. And pretty bad after service too. Who'd want to do it with a guy who'd after doing the deed rolls over to his side and won't pay any attention to the girl?

His excuse for not giving head? He had a nasty run-in with some chick with a smelly cunt. Fuck that man. He won't even give me any after he'd seen me taking a shower. As if his dick smells so fragrant.

Ass.

He got a bit insecure when I told him that I went out with an Indian guy after him. I cracked that joke about how you can't go back when you've gone black and that seemed to have hit at all his insecurities. OK. Technically speaking, a black should be some African sort of guy. But let's just take it that the de facto 'black' in Malaysia are (on the most side) Indians. (And also said to have the biggest schlongs among the three major races in the country.)

He stammered at me: Is it true?
Me: What is?
Him: That when you go black you can't go back?
Me: I dunno. I still haven't found anyone worth fancying that's not black. But the guy was big, I'll say.
Him: How big?
Me: Oh. Way bigger than you. Long.
Him: Oh. So you're saying I'm small lah? Hehehehe...
Me: Hmm.. I guess yours is OK. Definitely smaller than his.
Me: And he had great stamina." (I just had to add this.)
Him: Oh.
Me: Anyway, you don't give me oral.

For the Chink, who's more than a little racist towards Indians, particularly the furry-chested alpha males, hearing that he was not the best screw in my lineup of boyfriends (count 'em - four) was a painful hit below the belt.

He used to make a fuss whenever he saw a Chinese girl out with an Indian guy. He'd raise hell and make statements like oh, Indian guys are stealing their girls so there's less of them pretty slanty-eyes for guys like him and how the girls are betraying their kind and shit.

Maybe if he cared to be more thoughtful towards a girl's needs...

Or not.

Size DOES matter after all.

I don't think I can go back. I've gone black.

DAMMIT.

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gaga

P-p-p-poker face, p-p-poker face!

I am so in love with Lady GaGa. I just love her songs and I especially adore her hair and her getup. So.. so COOL. Like highly stylised cosplay.

Ought I get a wig? Ought I? And wear thick black eyeliner with winged tips, all cat-like, all mysterious? And a bodysuit? Where do I find a bodysuit? And five-inch heels! Oooh!!! I'll just die.

Alrighty. I am going to learn to dance. I have to. And I am going to hit the karaoke joint soon and indulge in strawberry drinks with too cute names.

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it gets to me

Lalalala... I FEEL USELESS.

What am I doing wrong? What is going wrong?

I need to change. It must change.

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revenge of the mascara

As I was driving home today, I recalled a moment in time - a time before I knew the importance of eyebrow grooming.

God.

I had really awful looking eyebrows then. They were oddly shaped. Sparse hair with high arches. Now I check myself in for eyebrow threading sessions whenever I'm in the Bangsar vicinity. Else, I'll just do a bit of plucking and trimming. Not too great, but I manage.

By the way, did I mention how much I love Dior's Iconic Lash mascara? And this Maybelline thing with a name too long I forgot what it's called.

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lamentable manisfestations

I spent Valentine's Day at an inter-media bowling tourney - and naturally, the team lost. My best score was 67 - and I ranked at 132 out of 137 players in terms of score. OK, at least I wasn't last. And I managed to score a strike once.

I play better badminton. Or so I'd like to think anyway.

There wasn't much to do by way of being a single on a day when some love-themed meal and a super sappy romance movie are compulsory. So I went and bought myself two pairs of thongs - which now I regret buying.

The first, a midnight blue see-through thong with silver glitter I realised upon reaching home that I'd grabbed the wrong size. It's a size bigger and it was hanging on the little thong hanger with a big '8' on it. Way to go. I'm so not going to return it. I'm going to donate it to my friend who happens to wear size tens.

The other was this quirky pink and silver thing with ruffles. It reminds me of when I was eight. When little girls' swimsuits had the little ruffle-bit pretending to be like a little bit of a skirt. Damn. I never knew thongs can make me look and feel juvenile.

I don't know if I ever want to wear it... like what if I had to get undressed and I was seen in that pink thing - that looked so cute at Topshop five hours ago? I'd be a laughing stock. Nobody'll think of my credibility as a journalist anymore! Oh goddammit.

And I regret my hair trim. It wasn't supposed to be that short. Now for some nagging reason, I think I look older - which isn't much consolation when I just recently turned a year older. Dammit. I'd have much rather stuck with my brittle ends if I'd known it'd turn out like this.

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the madness that is Thomas Sabo

I've been rousing myself into a mad frenzy - all because of Thomas Sabo and his special charms.

The magical psychadelic VW van!!! OMG!!! OMFG!!!!!!

I MUST HAVE IT!!!!!!!!!!

So, I have been spending the last two days gluing my eyes to the computer screen, drooling at pictures of the special charms made by Thomas Sabo.

I shall join a cult. If they offered me Thomas Sabo.

You can't buy me with money, you can't buy me with cars, you can't buy me with clothes, you can't buy me with sex but yes, you can buy me with Thomas Sabo.

I shall worship Thomas Sabo forever and ever.

And I am getting that VW van.

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va-va-voom

I is in love. With Thomas Sabo.

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ook

Having an iced Ipoh white coffee at 10pm was a really bad idea. I couldn't sleep and ended up crawling into bed at nearly 3am - after enthusiastically singing along to the same two songs on loop (Jason Mraz's The Remedy and Franz Ferdinand's Take Me Out) and chatting random rubbish with a few friends to get myself tired.

And then I ended up having a weird dream before waking up feeling agitated about something, nothing, OK, maybe something after all but I'm not saying what. It's just too stupid.

Coffee makes me anxious.

I don't know why I bother with coffee when I know how it makes me feel. I get all fidgety in my seat, like I need to poo. Actually, I wanted to poo earlier but since my mind latched onto an incredibly lame idea to make me all the more anxious, all thoughts of hitting the loo was flung out of the window. Wait. I think it's coming back.

And then I feel like I need to bang my head against something. Preferably a wall. I have a great urge to just jump up and down in one spot. Scream. Fling myself onto the floor and roll about in utter madness, as a sign of protest. What I am protesting again? I don't know. I just feel like I need to protest.

Of course, it makes me want to down some anti-depressants. 'Cos they make me mellow like that.

Ook. Ook? Ook.

I think I'll go sing me Losing My Mind.

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utter random rubbish again

I wave it in your face, the magic wand that grants you your deepest desire. In a poof of pink glitter and silver spangles, you are transported to a world of purple unicorns and little green men - Leprechauns, not aliens of the Roswell variety.

Oh, golly gee! Leprechauns! Mama, let's have a Leprechaun for breakfast. We'll strip his flesh from limb to limb, sautee the meat with white truffle sauce and serve them with cotton-soft pancakes!

And he fell into the ravine and landed smack on his face. But he didn't die. Instead, he was met with a sight so bizarre he just knew that he ought to have stayed in bed that morning. Penises the size of a little tree were sprouting from the ground. Oh, golly gee. He wished he could whack himself on the head with a hammer but there were only penises. Sprouting from the ground.

So the fairy appeared. Her name was Magda. She had green teeth and purple wings, with a hideous pink dress that only someone as daft as Paris Hilton will covet. She did a little jig atop a red toadstool, flashed her boobs at a passing gnome and felt as pleased as punch. I could do this my whole life, she thought.

I et ice-cream for dessert. It was bee-yoo-tee-fool. Just like a 'rangutan. And it tasted like poo.

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utter random rubbish

Eh, apakah itu? Bulu kaki.
Mengapakah bulu kaki itu tergugur ke atas lantai? Entah.
Ajaib! Begitu ajaib rasanya. Seperti anggur berwarna biru.
Tetapi, ibu kata anggur berwarna ungu. Atau hijau. Tiada yang biru.
Iyalah, tetapi yang aku kata tu hanyalah umpama. Faham?
Tak faham pun. Apakah bulu kaki boleh disamakan dengan anggur?
Apa kata kita samakan dengan bulu ketiak?
Sama-sama lebat, kerinting dan menggelikan.
Gunakanlah deodorant Rexona! Tanpa was-was! Bau harum semerbak.
Macam sabun buku Fab. Apakah deodorant? Pewangi ketiak?
Tidak sedap namanya. Bagaimana jika disapunya pewangi itu pada kucing aku?
Adakah kucing itu akan menjadi lebih wangi? Atau perangainya akan elok sikit?
Tidak memilih makanan? Mungkinkah kucing itu akan menjadi lebih pandai?
Pewangi ketiak. Memang tidak sedap namanya.
Eh, tidak. Masalahnya sekarang pasal bulu kaki.
Bulu kaki yang tergugur ke atas lantai. Ada.. satu, dua.. dua helai!
Bukan, dua utas. Utas? Tidak mungkin keping. Atau ketul.
Ajaibnya peribahasa. Hebat. Gunakan tanpa was-was!
Mengantuknya. Saya akan meniduri seorang lelaki yang hebat satu hari nanti.
Saksikanlah! Ultraman!

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me-lancholy

I am but a mere distraction within a sea of distractions.
For a moment there, I thought that you might care for me.
I don't know what makes up your mind, the thoughts that go into it.
The logic and the reasonings, the morals and ideals.
I wish I knew.
Just like I wish I knew why I care about you.
Why I care about what you feel about me.
Why I care about what you think about me.
Why I care about if you wanted me.
If you needed me.
If you hate me.
If I disgust you.
If I make you laugh.
If I make you weep.
If I mean little... just as little as how they all mean to you.
Or less. Or maybe a little bit more.
Why do I let myself be taunted by your lies?
Why do I let myself be baited by your sweet words?
Why do I give in and convince myself that it is what I want?
Do I really want this? Can I not want this?
Can I throw you away? Cast you aside?
Kill you? Kill you? Kill you? Kill you?
It weeps, it bleeds, the little bird it does.
My heart, the little bird, an effigy of stone.
The stone cracks, it crumbles.
I cannot escape.
Kill me, please?

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again, again once more

I think you will not understand it when I say (for the umpteenth time) that I am depressed.

I don't like the life I am living today, the life that is full of negativity that whatever shred of a smile I used to have is just so... non-existent.

(The cup of gold topples and falls to its side. It is empty.)

(A noiseless scream rings hollow. It is left unheard.)

(I die. I fall. I die. I die. I die.)

I feel depressed.

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the journey to becoming a smut writer starts with a turkey

He beckons to her with a sweep of his arm.

He sits on the edge of the bed, wearing only an aura of confidence and a light spray of musk-scented perfume. He was a picture of sex with his hard member standing proudly at attention between his thighs.

No. He was sex personified.

She was drunken with the ideas of pleasure that awaits her on that bed. She takes a step. Two. She felt sexy in her heels as her slender hands made their way to her small, round breasts. Squeezing them slowly in her hands, her erect nipples showing through the gaps between her fingers.

She smiled. She winked.

Trailed her tongue down her lower lip in an attempt to turn him on even more - if that was possible.

He pulled her close against his body and breathed in the scent of her breasts. Slowly he fondled and licked at them, his eyes never straying away from hers.

She reached down for him and let a finger trail up and down his length before touching the bead of moisture at the tip of his penis. The finger she dragged to her lips with deliberation, her eyes too, never once straying away from his as each tried to tease the other into crumbling into submission.

Suddenly, Cucumber Man appeared.

"I is Cucumber Man: Cucumber Man! Cucumber Man! Laliho~ Cucumber Man! Cucumber Man! Cucumber Man! He shall save the day!" it bellowed, in what was believed to be a theme song of some sort of twisted parody of a children's animated superhero television series. (Read: Captain Planet. Or some other twisted variant.)

And just as sudden as his appearance, he disappeared.

And there ends the greatest smut fiction of the lifetime.

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Attack of the frilly pink knickers - 25 things about moi

1. A new mole appeared on my face on Feb 29, 2009. It's location - above my lip towards my left cheek. Sexy? I think it makes me look evil when I smile. Now I'm considering getting it removed - but not before finding out from a fortune teller if it will bring me good luck or it starts growing hair - whichever comes first.

2. There's a big pimple on my right bum. I scrub my bum with a pair of pink loofah gloves from Body Shop every three days as an exfoliating measure. I have no idea why it's there. It had better not be there forever.

3. I am always at the heart of gossip. It just comes with the hotness, dah-link. I realise that I'm slowly becoming like my idol, Britney (Spears, if you didn't know), who always gets bitched about the worst kinds of things. Well, that suits me fine. Brit's pretty hot these days. That just means I'm going to become hotter too. So bitch on babies, bitch on. At least I don't have a crooked nose.

4. I love perfume miniatures and heels. Heels have helped me with my posture over the years (and also, thanking my mom for using my salary to buy me a chiropractic mattress) and they make me taller, sexier and naturally, very hot. Oh, so hot. I know so because I've been told that. I keep a miniature Vera Wang Princess in my bag. It must be noted that I do not have BO. BO is you. Not me. Not ever.

5. I think I look hotter now than I used to. Now all I need to do is to polish on my swagger...

6. The best way to kill someone is with rat poo. Find a few grains of rat poo, grind 'em up and mix the stuff with some good old Nescafe 3-in-1. The fellow gets affected by the hantavirus and after two weeks of fever and tummy upsets, he dies. A great way to kill without drawing suspicion to your self. Just blame the deceased fellow for not keeping the hygiene in his kitchen.

7. Scratch #5. I am so hot.

8. I am waiting to receive F-cup Cookies from my friends as my birthday gift. Melisa says I can't go further than a C-cup. All I want is to go up one size - and it's still a B. (Not A. A is your Ah Lian neighbour's cup size.)

9. I am a firm believer that the Malayan tapir should replace the tiger as our sports mascot. Why? There are four species of tapirs in the world and the Malayan tapir is the only variant to come in black and white. The other three variants are brown and look like boars. By the way, Michael taught me that the female wears the underpants while the male wears the waist band.

10. Maybe I will like receiving a breast pump for my birthday.

11. 95% of people in the world are voyeurs. You know I'm special when I say I'm an exhibitionist. That's why I got myself onto reality TV in the first place. And because I'm hot. Like Britney.

12. Knows that a lot of bitches (and bastard) hate her - but that's to be expected. It's because I'm hot. Hot people get a hating like nobody's business all the time. It's like how everyone hates Paris Hilton. Say what you like, but she has all the money and the looks. The car. The TV show. Whatever. And you... you have your flabby tummies. Ha!

13. Is sitting next to a moron at the moment.

14. Used to date a moron. Well, a few morons. Even kissed some.

15. Attracts morons. Hmm.. I was gonna mention it but maybe I should leave out the racist remark.

16. Loves baked sweet potato pie with a vengeance.

17. Wonders why Najmuddin is always so horribly late to everything. He's gonna be late to his own funeral too, I tell you. Maybe he is constipated? Or too caught up plucking the hair off his chest?

18. Never makes the first move in holding a guy's hand.

19. Has very promiscuous friends, some with incredibly big bosoms.

20. Read the instructions on my cat's shampoo bottle today. It read: "Wet cat completely".

21. Still cries when she reads the part where Matthew Cuthbert says to Anne Shirley in L.M. Montgomery's Anne of Green Gables, "My girl, my girl that I'm proud of". He dies in the next chapter.

22. Secretly reads hentai manga online. Now it's no longer a secret.

23. Wonders if she will get flowers for Valentine's Day this year. Maybe not. At least a bottle of weed killer will do. There's plenty use for weed killer these day's when you're super hot, attract a lot of morons and the envy of bitches.

24. The first word I uttered was 'bird'. My mom was greatly disappointed in me. She still is sometimes.

25. I think my dad should let me wear miniskirts. Don't you agree?

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Five minutes with... Sue the gorilla, part deux

THE cloud of a previous sexual harrassment charge still hanging over his head, former NASA astronaut program participant gorilla Sue has bounced back from a tumultous, controversial life into the heart of yet another sexual controversy - this time with the so-called de facto poster boy of Surat Pisang, assistant news editor Najmudildo.

Sexual harrassment charges do not apply this time though, as Najmudildo was recently quoted as saying that he "accepts all forms of harrassment, sexual or not" as he finds that "harrassment is the closest form of idol worship, stalker-style".

Unfortunately, things took an ugly turn when a third party inteference by fellow colleague 'Si Kuttan' further embroiled the duo's relationship, thus catapulting Sue and Najmudildo as the widely gossiped couple of the year (even more so than when it was with Mawi and Ekin).

Surat Melayu speaks once again to Sue on account of his fiery love affair with Najmudildo and the trials and tribulations that follow.

Surat Melayu: So, does your relationship with Surat Pisang's Najmudildo mean that you are totally over the astronaut, Dr Sick Musjapa, who caused you to get charged with sexual harrassment?
Sue: Oh, dah-link. I am so, so OVER Muzzy. That good-for-nothing, ass-shaking, peach-faced pansy-boy is so YESTERDAY. He's all like, "Oh, yoohoo! I'm like, the biggest ho in space!" and look what happened to him? He got on the rocket, rode the joystick and it got STUCK. In his ass. Fucking stupid loser or what? If you reading this Muzzy, let the whole world know that I said you a fucking stupid ho. Ho ho HO. Now suck on that loser!!

SM: Oh. Kay. Tell us about your relationship with Najmudildo.
S: Oh, Najjy's just sweet. I've never met anyone so wonderfully hunky-dorable ever. I just love twirling my fingers in his curly hair (and they get stuck so often we have resorted to keeping scissors on the bedside table) and oh, his chest! Such drool-worthy, smooth-baby-ass-smooth chest! I could lick the whole expanse of skin there for hours and... (Ed: The following had to be cut out to cater to our younger set of audiences. Surat Melayu apologises.)

SM: Erm.. Oh. Kay. Surat Melayu hears that not all is peachy though, what with the interference of the third party referred to as 'Si Kuttan' by the media.
S: Ah, that disgusting creature! How dare he try to steal my Najjy away from me! Doesn't he know that 'first come, first serve'? And that applies to the ice-cream truck too. Coo. Speaking of ice-cream trucks, I love them popsicle things. Strawberry flavour. Long like a dong, my best friend Watson Nyambek likes to say. Gives an almost erotic feeling when you pop the whole thing in your mouth. Anyway, hmm? What? I'm going off topic and stepping into the realm of 18SX? Shit. What happened to freedom of speech and gossip? Oh yeah, so anyway if I see that vile creature imma whacking him with a shovel if he comes anywhere within 10 feet of my darling Najjy-butterkins.

SM: What are the challenges do you expect to see happening in your love life in this Year of the Ox?
S: I expect we'll be having a lot of sex.

Related story in Surat Melayu: 'Si Kuttan' speaks.

KUALA LUMPUR, Sunday - Surat Pisang staff, nicknamed by the media as 'Si Kuttan', who was recently reported as being the thirt party inteference in the widely speculated relationship of newly-emerged public interest couple, former sexual harrassment offender gorilla Sue and Surat Pisang assistant news editor Najmudildo was admitted into the hospital this morning after being assaulted by an identified man at the back of Lorong Hj Taib, Kuala Lumpur.
Recounting his terrific experience to reporters, Musjapa said that the man, dressed in black fur and clad only in a pink apron (with heart motifs) just popped out of nowhere and proceeded to whack him with a faux pink crocodile purse (shaped like a banana) before moving on to stripping the hair off his chest with a piece of fly tape measuring 15cm x 15cm.
"Mu-mu-muh-muh MY HAIRRRRRR!!!!" wailed a distressed Si Kuttan in his king-sized cot, his voice muffled by the fluffy pillows engulfing him, before hospital staff ushered this reporter away.
It is understood that Si Kuttan's apparent distress was caused by the very fact that his parents had disowned him following the removal of his (former) lustrous chest hair.
It is also understood that police have a clue as to whom the suspect may be. However, they were unable to comment during press time.

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