Emancipated ? Not Just Yet.

So, most people will celebrate her 49th by having a jolly good time. That or maybe, check into leisure mode and just chill with the idea of having a long weekend break. Applicable to most but just NOT me !

While she's celebrating her divorce anniversary from pasty ol' Brit, minging me, on the other end, is on my third week of imprisonment. No, I take that back ! Heck, even being in prison is better than my current predicament.

At least in prison, I can like spend my days sharpening that not-so-blunt-anymore pink toothbrush and not care of practically anything else. Stress ? Hardly. And if I'm lucky, I might even get some good ol' banging from nasty me-have-burberry-caps-and-rockport-trainers skinheads thrown in while scrubbing the lavatory. Bliss ? Oh, yes. Triga-style !

But hell, no.

For I'm in some place that's beyond rude. Fucken strapped in the world of late-night studies, assiduous reading ( pretending to be lah ! ) and exam blues. A world where I woke up thinking of procedure determination, reading up on outbound delivery while eating and sleeping, dreaming of copy controls. Urghh !

Independence. Such strange a word for me, now. But hey, I'm hopeful. That my day of emancipation will come real soon.

Meanwhile, here's a toast to her. With no gloss-over. Or sarcasm poke.

To a hopeful you ! Happy 49th, old boy !

It's A Doodle, Not !

So, I've been bumping into her for almost two weeks now. There she was, perched nicely on two damn-it's-blue easel ( or whatever you call those stand thingy ), tempting me to scribble something on to her very flat surface. But fuck me, everytime I was about to write something, fickle me can't really decide on what to write.

You see, I have no friggin idea what kind of message to tattoo her over.

Should I opt for the :


The I'm-Glossy Message

Happy 49th, M ! Wonderful harmonious country, you are !

The Datuk-Yeoh Message

To Ma-Lay-Seah, the truly Eh-Seah country. Selamat 49th !

The I'm-Angsty Message

So, 49th huh ? So, let's check what progress we have chalked so far, no ? Freedom of speech. As long as it's a good piece about you. Freedom of Justice. As long as it's by your configuration. Freedom of watching what I want to watch. But just not Chin Peng. Or Pussycat dolls. Swell !

The I'm-A-Fag-Fighter Message

Ohmygawd, Happy Sweet 49th, gurl ! Now, since your are such a big classy gurl now, can we tête-à-tête about that nasty nasty 377A and B articles ? Power to the lay-dees !

The Paris Message

M is hawt ! World peace ! Happy Indy, baby !

or The Petai Message

Malaysia Boleh ! Ya, Malaysia Boleh ! Boleh ! Malaysia ! Boleh ! Can ! Boleh !

Oh well, two more days to ponder it over ....

Lyk What Stress ?

Lyk just hang in there, eddie boy. 3 more weeks and you'll be emancipated !

Lyk hopefully ...

Hurdle Comes, Hurdle Goes

A life with no worries and stumbling blocks. A life so smooth, that it glides on auto-mode. Not unlike golden daffodils fluttering away on one glory never-ending night.

Sigh. How I wish that it's even remotely possible.

I sorta knew about it a week ago. I called. We chatted. I uttered some lame old "be-strong-I'm-sure-the-everything-is-fine" encouragement. And that is it. The fact is, I play-ed down the whole situation. Fuck me, I even toyed with the idea that perhaps, just perhaps, that this is one of his sick jokes, if not the worst and that I'm so ready to flip when he finally dirts out his nasty scheme. That I'm ready to not talk to him for a week. If not more.

I guess that's my shitty way of dealing with shitty situation.

It can't be true. It's not true. It's just a farce. It MUST be a farce !

Exploding my peanut-sized brain with such idea so that I don't have to deal with it. But realisation is to be realised in the end. For tonight, it finally dawned on me. Upon readin this.That he is indeed not doing well.

Treatable or not. Preliminary or not. He is unwell. And that's that. And there's no excuse for me to run away from it anymore.

Life without hurdles. How lovely a notion. For reality is crude. With it's fair share of potholes and whatnots.

But I shall keep on hoping for now. Hoping that his is just a small pit. That for sure he will be okay and make it through, unscathed. That we will be merry again soon.

And that the daffodils will start dancing again come next day.

What A Pile Of Mushrooms !

Some folks get their arse out of their house when they're bored. Some eats. Some don't. And some just shags like no muthaeffing business.

Unfortunately for me, me aint in any of those categories.

First of all, I don't like walking. I always try to keep that to the minimal on most days. And on my rest days, it's more of if-only-it's-necessary-or-when-I-need-to-poo-or-piss situation. Now surely, heading out includes lotsa walking, so, nah, I don't think so.

Oh, how bout eating ?! Ohmigod, are you kidding me? According to the Asian Bmi, I'm a certified friggin bulldozer. Another round of char kuey teow, and I'm officially a Chinese Pavarotti ! So, evidently, no to that too.

And don't even get me started on oh-baby-yeah-baby session. I'll start to wail if I hear the word dry one more time, I tell you. No joke !

So, what the eff do I do when I'm bored, you may asked. Well, nuffink. Yes, nuffink. I usually do nuffink when I'm bored. I secretly like to quadruple my boredom.

Just like what I've been doing the whole of today ! Woke up looking like a troll with ciggie-stained teeth, bored to my tits and just did nothing about it. Apart from that 15 minute of lapse-time where I actually did some reading, it was nothing all day long.

Heck, highlight of the day was basically me pirouetting to the nearby mamak and got meself a pack of teh ais ! Fuck, this ain't funny anymore. This is pathetic and beyond rude. And I'm bovvered by it ....

Damn, I miss the minge ! At least if he's here, I'll have an equally boring person to grow fucken shiitake with ! And maybe knit something out from our pubes. Like together. While drinking green tea.

Argghhh .....

Salvation Call

A few days ago, and I still think it's a lil weird. But after flipping thru pics of a good pal's big day, it ain't that weird afterall. In fact, it feels kinda right. Two grooms and no bride in nasty veil ain't that ohmigod, really.

Anyway, like in a totally un-related case as it ain't gonna happen, if ever it's gonna happen but like fuck it won't happen but like double fuck maybe it will *roll eyes* :

He shall be me maid-of-honor best man.

He to organize me stag hen night.

He as the flower girl.

And you to give me away !

Now, if anyone here has any objections to this wonderful arrangement, let them speak now or forever hold their peace ! *a short moment of silence*

Else, those whom god hath joined together, let not man put asunder.

Thank. You. Very. Much.

Pukka of A Parcel ?

*On one gloomy lil Friday,

Me nugget sent to me,

Three smutty cds,

Two minging chutneys,

And a single worthy of many grammies !

* To the tune of The Twelve Days Of Christmas

Mum, You Are Smelling The Dahlias, No ?

Well, let’s check it, shall we …

• You gave me a diamond stud for my 21st. In platinum. Just what a boy ever wished for his debutante ball. The typical gold ohmigod-it's-a-friggin-key pendant ?! Like hello, not you.
  

• I “bought” you that dang, you hate it too, you bought that detox herbal tea, it sort of works, we kinda purged a few times, so we love it and you got us another pack . Yes, you share my nicole richie fascination. And my salubrious-self-loathing-for-our-body dang.

• I’m your personal Vogue on two unwaxed legs. Purveyor of good taste, good fashion and good beauty tips. At least, to you, I am. Afterall, I am the Anna Wintour of your life. With a nicer bob, of course.

• I need a facial. I let you know. You call our local Kose girl. She checks her booking. She’s available. And I’m hooked. Easy peasy.

• You saw my freshly plucked brow, and for a minute, you seem shocked. And then you resumed back on ironing the clothes . Unruly bushes are ought to be trimmed, and you agree-wholeheartedly. Just don’t over pluck it, you said.

• I was shrieking. Wailing of wanting plastic surgery should the face heal badly. You didn’t say yes. Or no. You were way too hysterical. Of me possibly being disfigured. To response. Poor you !

• I hate the scale. You hate the scale. Together, we cursed that pathological liar ! How could he ! But still we consult that muff every single goddamn day.

• I look good in pink. And of course, you think so too !

Hmmm, I've no friggin idea ...

Lumpy Arse Says No

There he was, all 5 foot 10 of him, standing right in front me. Smirking and looking all tanned.

“So, how ?”

“Peanuts!”

“So, how long ?”

“21 in less than 2.5 hours”

“Oh, good for you ! So proud of you. Well done.”

“You know, you should join me in one of those ! I can train you up.”

“Err … no thanks. I’ll rather not. Oh by the way, you’re blocking the tv, Pa. Thanks.”

He walked away, obviously still experiencing pleasure over his latest achievement and I remained in my couch, desperately trying to figure out what precious plotline I’ve missed and why is the bitch so damn clueless.

Sorry dear endurance-happy dad, but like hello, that chinese drama is so wacky and fun, and marathon is so not.

And that your dear old boy don't run. He sashays.

Jealous

Omg, this is beyond rude.

Minge bf is like goin to Maddie's concert like now !

Without me !