I just went through my friend's blog.. and couldn't help but snigger at her post where she reveals that she was tricked by some dude online into believing that he is a super hottie.
She told me about it some time earlier. Some super hot dude on facebook or summat suddenly decides to 'chat her up' out of the blue and the very next thing, she's contemplating being his girlfriend. Like, an online one. The guy's a foreigner from some country far, far away.
I thought that was so damn dodgy. No offence to my friend.. but the guy is supermodel hot. He can score more gorgeous chicks. My friend is gorgeous enough but well, not enough to be as gorgeous as Nicole Scherzinger. You know?
Then this guy, the real guy behind the photos the interested foreign dude sent her, stumbled on her blog and discovered that some idiot was trying to seduce my friend with his photos! That's totally identity theft! And urged my friend to go Google him up, he being a legitimate model and stuff..
Sounds like a Gotcha moment to me. And the Gotcha's on my friend.
Well done, man. This is why you should always be wary for men on the Net. They're mostly dodgy as hell. The only time you can trust them to put up real photos is if the guy in them looks.. ugly.
Believe you me, I've gone on enough Net blind dates to be an expert on these things.
Monday, March 30, 2009
hahahahaha!!!
Sunday, March 29, 2009
me and my tapir
Over a dinner of my mom's weird version of tom yam, I told my mom (after we bitched for about half an hour about the stupidities that maketh the stupid man, (Mohamad) Khir Toyo, (not forgetting the Datuk Seri and oh, Dr title)) that I wanted to adopt a tapir at the zoo.
I don't know how the conversation ended up with my mom's fascination about this incident at the Melaka zoo when my mom mistook an elephant's schlong for its trunk and wondered why it was spouting all this water until she realised that the trunk was attached to somewhere quite dubious... (And you wonder where I got my open, vulgar humour from.)
But anyway, yeah. My mom was all supportive and said, OK, why don't you go sponsor the tapirs RM100 a month or something because I told her that all donors will have their names listed on this page on the Zoo Negara website. By the way, none of the donors are channeling their money towards the tapirs which is so cruel of them. Who cares about the orangutans? Tapirs are so much more cuter. And if you put a picture of one underneath your pillow, they'll eat up all your bad dreams. So says the Japanese folklore.
Then I told my mom that maybe I'd get to give a name to a tapir. And that I have the perfect name for it. I'm gonna call it Tan Sri Ismail Merican, in honour of the Health director-general that I LOVE so much.
Actually, he is a major asshole. He is rude when he answers my calls for comments and he is a senile old man who would forget something he had told me two days earlier.
I thought it'd be cool to call my tapir Tan Sri. After all, you have dogs called Duke and that sounds all noble and shit. A Tan Sri is a Malaysian equivalent of a Duke, innit? So when I get to visit my adopted tapir, I'd go, "Oi, Tan Sri!" and then I'd take pictures of it pooping and put it up on Facebook with the label: "Here is Tan Sri Ismail Merican. He pooped a big one today." That's going to be so cute.
But my mom thought that that was a cruel thing to do. Not to the real Tan Sri, but to the tapir.
"You're going to name it after an ugly man," she said matter-of-factly.
True.
Maybe I'll just call it Tapir.
So tomorrow, I'm going to call the zoo and find out how I can make donations, get my name on that list of donors' page, and if I can give a name to one of the tapirs they have.
I love tapirs.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
mickey comes to town
Oh, fish. Looks like I'll be 'participating' in this Earth Hour crap thing after all because my friend's bored and I'm supposed to tag along to see some local ragtag bands playing at Laundry. By the way. Don't you need to plug in the speakers and guitars and stuff? Doesn't all this use up electricity? What's the point of Earth Hour then if we're only turning off the lights?
Dumbass communists. Oops, commercialists.
DUMBASSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Anyway, I am now safe at home, in the cocoon of my bedroom. My friends have weird ideas about things to do. One friend wanted to go see Tomok. Like, why the fuck do I want to see Tomok? As far as I'm concerned, he's a plain nobody. I just happen to know who he is because some people I know, like my friend, enjoy squealing to me about how cute he is when he totally is not. He is motherfucking ugly. Period.
And then this same friend is pestering me to join her and another friend into going to where again, but Penang. Please. I was there just two weeks ago. I'm not going to pay RM200 for a two-night visit just so we can buy cheap DVDs! And that's just for the travel expenses if we're going by flight both ways! No no no no. There's hardly anything left for a person to do in Penang. I'm not interested in water sports (after a really bad experience last year with the Viper ride) and I don't want to look at their old buildings anymore.
I want. To sit in a tent. Build a campfire. Tell ghost stories round the fire. Have sex in a tent with a really cute guy. THAT'S WHAT I FRIGGIN' WANT.
BUT THERE'S NO FRIGGIN' CUTE GUY AND HARDLY ANYBODY WANTS TO GO CAMPING ANYMORE.
So I am going to read this book on 'The World's Greatest Serial Killers' and figure out a good plan to sterilise the world of a few rotten people.
Friday, March 27, 2009
my obsession
I'm going to do something special for myself by buying my first Thomas Sabo charm. I've already decided which one to buy with my recently-banked in salary.
I'm going to buy myself a pair of cherries in remembrance of my first few years growing up in Manchester, England. The nursery my parents enrolled me into had a special hook for all the kids to hang up their coats. Mine had a picture of cherries. And Mrs Henry or Mrs Gordon would help me to hang up my red coat onto it.
Ah, memories of when I was three.
There's just plenty of pretty charms to choose from but I thought it'd be more memorable to construct a bracelet full of charms that signify important things in my life, the way a charm bracelet should be all about instead of just being a pretty ornament on my wrist.
On another note, I've decided that having a boyfriend is just too overrated. I think I'd rather be single for now because I have yet to find anyone who's going to take my hobbies a lot more seriously.
karaoke is love
Tomorrow: Karaoke with colleagues. I love karaoke. I'm going to sing 'I'll Survive'. I'll have frozen yogurt from Yogurberry and buy a new book. I will be happy.
I will survive~!!!
Thursday, March 26, 2009
the truth remains the truth
"I learned the truth at seventeen;
That love was meant for beauty queens" - Janis Ian
And I learned the truth today. That dogs will always remain dogs.
Barking up the wrong tree, baring fangs at shadows in the dark.
That, is what you are.
YOU ARE OFFICIALLY ON MY SHIT LIST. YOU ARE GOING TO DIE.
the irregular nipple times
OK, that's just plain randomness on my part. What is an irregular nipple anyway? Just to fulfill your curiosity though, there is such a thing as an inverted nipple. That is, if you didn't already know.
Anyway, our local councillors are plain stupid. I attended one of the council's fullboard meeting this morning and it took them four-and-a-half friggin' hours before they decided to postpone whatever else that's left on the plate to another day. I think. God knows. Half an hour before the meeting adjourned, all of the Press decided that they must have lunch and left the councillors to do their bickering unwatched.
The contents of their 'debate' were major time-waster, I felt. This one woman councillor just had to make an argument about medical benefits for the council staff that in my opinion, made her look like an airhead. She wanted to know why longer-serving and higher-ranking staff received more benefits.
"These people should be at a point of their career when they can afford to pay for their medical bills. How is it fair for the others who served less years and rank lower? In fact, they should be the ones whom the council should be helping to ease their medical burdens," she said, in her usual slow, deliberate way.
Now, I'm sure if an employee was riddled with some chronic condition that would require thousands, even millions of Ringgit worth of medical attention and he can't afford it (and his insurance is unable to cover for the entire cost) then the council will definitely step in to display an act of generousity. There are most certainly provisions of the kind in any corporate organisation.
But that is the exception to the case.
In any other circumstances, in every organisation it is normal for someone who has served longer, and especially those of higher rank to receive more benefits compared to the average person at the bottom (or lower parts) of the career rung.
If an organisation starts giving more goodies to the man at the bottom instead of the man at the top, they'd lose damn a lot of money considering that there's usually more at the bottom than on the top. (Nevermind that the man at the top usually gets paid about as much as what all of the men at the bottom earn in a year.)
But the main point is, do that and nobody will want to aspire to do better. Nobody will want to aspire to be on top. They'll be happy to just be the office boy, the typist, the whatever it is because they're getting a hell lot of great things doing stupid stuff that my kid sister could do. Like fold paper and stuff.
Anyway, dinner is calling. I'll continue my rant later.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
an open letter to someone...
Dear someone,
I cannot help but be elated for you had taken that first step - the step that I had been waiting for for many weeks. It feels like such a long time and many a time I have voiced out my intention to just call it quits and throw in the towel (patience does not rank high on my list of virtues) but really, looking at the calender it has only been about two months, a quite short span of time when I think about it.
Oh, but so many things have happened in two months.
I celebrated my birthday, I made new friends, lost a good friend, read a lot of new books, gone visiting in Penang, ate plenty of sushi and managed to get my feet on firm ground so that now I stand up a bit straighter than I used to. Life is getting better for me and I hope that it will include you because in the last two months, I got to know you better and for you, way too much of myself.
I must congratulate you for being bold, a bit too forward if I may add and although I had expected something of the sort to happen, nevertheless, it still took me by surprise when it happened.
However, I cannot but help but be held in by my insecurities. Has Friday night changed anything between us? Why would you want a mere girl like me (the 'Stepsisters' Lament' plays in my head)? Where are we at right now and where are you taking me to? Should I even be asking these questions?
Someone, I want to let you know that I value the friendship you have given me even when you drive me wild with your brand of corny jokes, I still can't figure out if you're playing with me or being serious half the time, and you're sometimes, too polite for my liking.
I've learnt plenty from previous failed relationships and I do not want another repeat performance. I would rather be just your friend forever and ever (if this is what you want) than let anything else come between us.
Why am I letting you know on my blog? Answer: Because I know I will be tongue-tied telling this to your face.
To tell you the truth... Although I tell you the most vulgar of jokes and use the most foul of languages, I feel shy around you when you look at me quietly making me feel that I am being scrutinised and when the corners of your eyes crinkle making me think that you're laughing at me inside.
I don't know how I feel about you. I feel that I am holding back sometimes because I am afraid of the uncertain and I am afraid of getting hurt. So I hope you will be patient with me and let me discover my own feelings and at the same time, discover if you have feelings for myself and please, please be patient with the mock Russian accent that I use to talk to you when I am in need of amusement.
Your friend,
M.
PS: This letter never did manage to get anything across, did it? I'm just talking in circles...
ambiguous intentions
I knew what I wanted to blog about last night but somehow when I woke up this morning, I totally forgot what.
The only thing I know is that I need to get waxed. And I will do so tomorrow, if not today. Dammit. I really don't get all the deal with pubic hair - do they even serve any purpose?
Anyway, here I am. At home. On my off day. It's a Saturday. I'm just about broke. My friends are busy. I'm in need of a wax. I want my sushi. I'm having this on-off diarrhea situation going on. I just re-read an old comic. I'm bored. I scrubbed the bathroom.
Gah.
I'm bored.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
wild and free
Horses? Hair? Pussy?
I feel tired. I shouldn't have had that Mai Tai last night. I went home with a woozy head, which felt like a tonne of bricks against my pillow. And then I woke up with a stomach ache, tinkling piss that smelt of asparagus into my peach toilet bowl.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Friday, March 13, 2009
the clueless penang trip
The worst thing about going on vacation is not knowing what you want to do - which was precisely what happened during the last five days (Mar 9 to 13, 2009) in Penang.
I can list you the things I did there - played Silent Hill: Homecoming for some hours on Elayni's PS3 before I ran out of health drinks and got KO'd by a zombie nurse, amused myself on Elayni's stepper exercise contraption at random times, got a pedicure and had my toes painted a shade of strawberry milkshake, straightened my hair, had a massage at the seaside, sipped a Sex on the Beach at.. the beach, bought fake CDs and DVDs, walked out one day with camera in tow and got horribly lost on foot, and had my future predicted by an astrologer for a whopping RM90.
In between, I met Elayni's course mates and ate at whatever place I was brought to. Most hours were spent till the wee hours of the morning doing the designs for Elayni's profile page that's going into her yearbook. It looks spanking great, of course. At least my IT degree did not go completely to waste.
Then I couldn't sleep for all the nights there at Elayni's place because I was scared of sleeping all alone in a dark room with a scary closet and a scary mirror and scary dogs barking outside.
The other bit is that I never got to meet any cute guy although Elayni's guy friend was exceptionally entertaining. Oh yeah.. during when I got lost, I got hit on by a black dude. I was just ambling aimlessly when this dude walks up and asks me if I'm Japanese. I said 'no' and then he asked if I could speak English. I shook my head. Then:
"If anybody asks, just tell them I was talking to you OK? I wasn't doing anything - just talking. And by the way I'm African-American. I come from America," he said, then with a little wave he just ran off.
That was.. bizarre.
And I still regret that I didn't get to meet any cute guy.
Fucking damn.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
a tribute to you
The things that we want most, are always the things that we never get. Are they not so?
A colleague shared with me last night that he is thinking of leaving the company due to certain employee benefit issues that had been plaguing him since he received his first salary. For some unknown reason, he is the only permanent (and that means non-contract) staff who has been missing out on his EPF and SOCSO contributions. He has been with the company for eleven months.
It's a valid cause for wanting to leave although he has other demands, like a salary raise because he feels that he is one of those who is contributing more to the company.
He already has an offer waiting for him outside and hopes that the company will be able to match the pay offered to him. However, he has little hope that the company will agree.
For all his flaws (which we all come with) and the occasional diva tantrum (which I have been wont to throw once in a while too), it will be a waste to see him go.
It is his choice though, as to whether he leaves or not.
I'd been thinking about it for a good part of last night. This is not the first time he had thought about leaving but somehow I got the feeling that this would be the one situation that will put the gears into motion for him.
The truth is, I don't want him to go.
We have a strange relationship, me and this colleague of mine. At work, we despise each other. Outside... either the affection is real or made up.
To a lot of people, our friendship status is not known. Heck, even I question the veracity of our friendship sometimes.
I don't love him, oh no. I've realised a long time ago that I can't have what I want the most. He has also hurt me too many times with his words and his actions but the pain slowly diminishes as I get used to the idea that this is all ephemeral. He is an important part of my life but not the most important.
But I wonder... if I will be able to function should he leave? It is that mixture of love and hate, envy and awe, anger and affection that propels me to do better. He is my rival and if he leaves... there will no longer be anyone who can spur me to fight and enjoy the challenges of wanting to come out on top.
My heart feels so divided...
Why did I have to meet you?
never too late to start
When it comes to anti-aging products, I mean.
Last week, a contact from a PR agency had sent me a package of products from the newly launched Dermaheal skincare brand. I've never heard of Dermaheal before but the key distributor here also has brought in other brands like Dermalogica, Averine and Clinelle - which I trust to be reputable brands (and I love Averine's makeup) - so I think it's cool that I got five actual-sized products from Dermaheal's anti-aging range.
But five kinds of creams to slap on my face every morning and night sounds a bit tedious - and I've always wondered if the skin really does absorb all the stuff that gets onto it - so I gave two products to my mom. Some day cream and serum. So I got this thing which I believe is a toner (it's called the Skin Delight Solution), a moisturiser (Skin Delight Emulsion) and a dark spot preventive cream (Skin Delight Spot Corrector).
I've only used the products for a few days so I'm not too sure of their efficacy. Products are packaged in simple white boxes with grey accents and text. The bottles containing the creams are in transparent cylinders - but you can't see how much cream you have left because that is contained in a pearl white cylindrical container within the transparent bottle - with a silver pump on top to avoid contamination through direct contact on skin and a transparent cap.
I don't have wrinkles really anyway. But the brochure says that peptides are also good for eliminating pimples and reducing scars through faster regeneration of new skin cells.
Well, that's what all the brochures say anyway.
I just ran out of toner and moisturiser and heck, I know I'll never go out and buy these Dermaheal things (if they're going to cost as much as Dermalogica's stuff, then probably not) so I'm happy with the timely gift.
In real life, I'm not too much of a sucker for freebies. Half the time, I end up giving away the freebies I get because they're not worth jumping for joy over.
Movie tickets are wasted on me. I've already got three thumb drives to my name and a 30GB portable hard disk drive. I don't wear super-sized T-shirts with company logos on them. I don't wear football jerseys. And I've already got a mug cup that I love to bits - a Panasonic-Beijing Olympic mug with the panda mascots on them. The Panasonic logo just had to ruin it all.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
salute to me
I love, love, love:
1. Karaoke and just plain singing in my room
- Must sing songs include Celine Dion's 'It's All Coming Back to Me Now', the Backstreet Boys' 'As Long As You Love Me', Faith Hill's 'Kiss Me', the Spice Girls' 'Who Do You Think You Are?' and starting from just recently, the Bee Gee's 'Tragedy'.
- I love musicals. I love classic songs. I love songs with meaningful lyrics, not about humps and how you got it from your mama.
2. Sushi
- My favourite join is Sushi Zanmai in Sunway Pyramid because that's the only Sushi Zanmai branch that opens till 11pm. The rest all close at 10pm. I can never get bored of sushi.
3. Glitter, shimmer, lame (with a little mark above the 'e' please)
- But for some really sad reason, they all look horribly cheap on me. They make me look like the Queen of Ultra Tacky.
4. Lipglosses and perfumes
- Lipsticks make me look like a kid playing dress-up and I just hate how they stick onto glasses after taking a sip. Lipglosses are cooler. More au naturel. And I love fruity fragrances that kind of screams, "This is the girl I want to date!"
5. Idolises Britney Spears and Lady GaGa
- OK. Once upon a time I thought Britney was dumb. She was an airhead. Heck, maybe she still is although I still think that the biggest celebrity airhead award goes to Jessica Simpson (and you can't dispute that!). But you know what? She's normal. She has ups and downs. She makes mistakes. And she bounces back to become hotter than ever. Dammit. I want to be hot too.
- I love Lady GaGa for her quirky fashion that is so glam. She's not quirky like let's-wear-a-rubbish-bag-and-see-if-it-creates-a-fad quirky. She's a class act. I want to wear that hot black bodysuit too.
6. Thinks that protruding nosehair is disgusting
- And we have quite a few people in the office with that problem. Like geez, don't they ever look in the mirror? Hell, I trim my nosehair too when it seems like they're gonna start becoming unruly, like not pubic hair unruly, but threaten-to-pop-out-and-poke-people-in-the-eye unruly. Now these people, they have nosehair like whole paint brush bristles poking out of their nostrils. Imagine seeing that up close when you snuggle close for a smooch. Gross!
... to be continued...
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
intimidate me
That extra inch will not help me get over it and neither will a good slap of pimple cream on my face.
Ah but hang on, someone's at the door - it's my inferiority complex, come to pay me a visit. And he's gonna hang out here for a long time.
There is a newcomer at the office. She is tall and beautiful. Nice skin, unblemished. Fashionable in clothes 'daring' enough for the office, showing a good expanse of skin and a healthy dose of cleavage. Sophisticated. That's the word I'd use to describe her best.
It is not her tattoos that intimidate me. Nor is it her smoking habit.
Perhaps what intimidates me the most is how different she is from me.
Comparing myself to her, I must be like some sort of alien life form. I'm a foolish goof. Insignificant to the point that I cannot compare myself to the likes of her! She may be two years younger than me but I just know that I can never carry myself with such poise and exude an air of maturity.
Like I said, I'm a foolish goof. Jokes about bowel movements make me laugh. I don't dress all that well and come in to work with hair wet straight from the shower. I don't even have a tattoo - OK, that is NOT a problem. I trip over my own feet. I hide in corners and then scare anyone who passes me by.
But well, you know me.
Know me enough to agree that I'm just plain weird. Right?
When will I stop being the girl in the cinders? The girl with the unfulfilled dreams? The girl... who is so intimidated by something that is skin deep?
adventures of the little piglet
The little piglet tells me that it needs to fly so I tell it, fly, little piglet, fly! And off it flew, high, high, high up into the air, sprouting wings of pink feathers mixed in with purple and blue.
Oink, oink, oink, oink!
Then the little piglet, it landed on a cloud of cotton candy that was hanging in the big blue yonder that is the sky and below it stood a castle of chocolate bars. It caught the piglet's eye.
Oink, oink, oink, oink!
The piglet dive-bombed towards the chocolate-bar castle and collided into it. The castle crumbled into big chunks, medium chunks, little chunks. Ants the size of a tractor came to dutifully cart the chunks of sugary sweetness back to their nest where the queen ant awaits her diabetes-inducing grub, that will no doubt be transferred on towards the new kid (soldier) ants and they will always, always have a craving for sweet things and then die a terrible death that includes gangrene and teeth rot.
Oink, oink, oink, oink!
The little ball of pink felt remorseful at what it had just done for behold! Its actions had just unleased Puffy the baby dragon from its chocolate-y confinement.
Puffy huffed and puffed and little balls of fire plopped onto the ground whereby the little mushrooms and toadstools caught fire.
Aieeeeee!!!
The little pixies screamed for their behinds were scorched black by the flaming tongues. They ran about in search for water but they did undeniably foolish thing which was to just run about in circles until finally they were scorched all over and they dropped down. Face down. Dead.
Oh no!, thought the little piglet. It flew once more into the air and kept an eagle on on Puffy. I'm going to dive-bomb it!
Gaining momentum, mixed with the fury of a little piglet that had gone a little bit cuckoo in the head, it waited until Puffy was right on the spot and dove.
Down, down, down, down, down... and then a collision occured.
And the little piglet and Puffy died.
The end.
Monday, March 2, 2009
depression is a quaint shade of brown
I is depressed. Is you know why is I depressed? I is depressed because I stumbled upon something I shouldn't has seen. Of course, the thing is I seen is what I has expected all along but knowing and suspecting is always, always two different things:
Suspecting is having the luxury of the small little voice in the head dismissing the bad idea as just being a bad idea thought up by a precocious mind. Knowing is having the voice of reality telling the little voice in the head that no, is you cannot dismiss it as just being a work of imagination because it is TRUE.
Is not a good feeling at all.
That is explanation for why I is depressed.
I is not the only one, yes, I know.
I know that all the words he tells me is fake words. And probably all the gestures is fake too.
Of course, I has already established that to you many, many times in the past. You know so. You read my blog.
So why do I keep making same mistake? Why do I make myself hurt again and again?
Will repetitive pain bear immunity?
Will repetitive belittling bear humility?
I is wanting to be immune to this thing called depression.
I is not want to be a quaint shade of brown.
I is want to be like the blazing sun. More fiery, brighter than anyone.
But sun gets put out sometime. Sun not shine forever. Oh yes it do, in the darkness of universe but not here when day turn to night and there is no sun. The sun is not always powerful here.
So it dies and returns. Still bright. Still fiery.
Hot.
I is not wanting to be depressed no more.