Ramblings From A Constipated Tunnel

Of Cobwebs And Plenty Of Dust

2009-02-01T16:34:00.002+08:00

Niasing, this is ABANDONMENT in a whole a new fucken way.

Damn, it's been that long huh ?

1 fucken year and more.

What's new ? Plenty but yet none.

Oh well, that's life, innit ?

Tra la la ....

Holy Cow !

2007-10-15T21:41:00.000+08:00

How to fucken detect a crazy crazy and incredibly near impossible orgasmic game of Scrabalous ?

Here's how :
Oxyphenbutazone for a score of 1778 ! Holy cow, fuck me ....

Passing Jugdement

2007-10-11T09:45:00.000+08:00

Looking at him, you promised yourself to never ever be caught in such situation.

To be stripped slowly of what’s left of one’s masculinity and respect in such a way is certainly not what you are prepared for.

Period.

Thus, you sauntered away, knowing fully you are about to decline the offer soon.

*flips hair*

So, What's Next #258 ?

2007-10-09T09:48:00.000+08:00

Most times, I simply have no idea what to do with my very much weathered and abandoned blog.

To ditch or not to ditch. To leave or to stay. I simply am not sure.

What I'm pretty certain is that most of my entries these days are very much watered down. Not unlike diluted coffee. One can still taste the caffeine but it won’t keep you awake. That sort of things.

To be honest, I tend to self-censored myself whenever I blog ( if I ever ) these days. I rarely blog about anything personal anymore. I might thread, but I seldom dive, if you get the drift.

Yeah, some might argue that this is my blog, so I should blog whatever fuck I want but then again, should I ?

I mean, as abandoned as this blog is, it is still being RSS-ed by some friends, some haters and a lover.

To receive a nudge asking whether I’m okay whenever I post an emo-slash-vile piece is the last thing I want.

Big attention whore I am, but at times, I also just wanna say my peace and get it done with. With no subsequent drama or dildos being thrown at my beaten face.

For this face can't take anymore dents, a'wight !!!

Diet Coke and A Pizza Please

2007-10-01T09:52:00.000+08:00

Your obsession with weight is nothing new.

Everyone who knows you will vouch for it. Heck, you even started drinking laxatives with mummy dearest when you are like 14. So, go figure !

You are fat, therefore you fret. Yup, that basically explains it all.

Usually your level of fat-induced paranoia is in a deluded stage aka it's-okay-ed-ur-fat-but-ur-cute-that-way but these days, you’re just sick of tapping into the niche market again and again and again.

You are no circus freak, so why obscure yourself to such runway, you questioned. And you are right. You shouldn’t.

You should strive to do mass catering. Of the crassier kind, of course.

You should. You oughta. You need to.

For having “baby” fats when you are in your early teens is cute.

Early twenties forgiveable.

And fucken suicidal when you are a cock and two balls away from the big 30.

Big girl, you are beautiful.

*screeching sounds*

Not.

Down South

2007-09-24T15:26:00.000+08:00

“You heartless bitch !”, says unsean.

Well, sue me for being honest. I just can’t help it. That’s all.

I ended up in Singapore last week and it’s been almost a good 1 year since the last time I’m there and a good 3 years since I’m no longer a resident. If it’s not for work-related, doubt I’ll be there anytime soon.

It doesn’t feel like a homecoming that’s for sure, nor am I overly excited about coming back. I told unsean that and the above was his 'riposte'. Heh.

Don’t get me wrong here.

I am still grateful for what Singapore has given me, wonderful wonderful memories and all but to put it succinctly, I think somehow I have given up the notion that I will head back south. At least, not for now.

Where I used to fret over my PR being cancelled, these days, I just don’t.

I just don't.

The Shell

2007-09-16T16:03:00.000+08:00

“Omg, you are going back again ?”

“Nie mesti ada jantan lain dekat kampung”

Yeah, roughly that’s the poke I’ll get whenever I told me mates that I’m heading home.

Home here, is well about 1 and half hours drive from dusty ol’ Kl. Which honestly, ain’t that far. Heck, at times, that’s just about the bloody amount of time I spent getting my fat arse back to ghetto KL from the workplace.

Federal Highway, anyone?

Anyway, jantan aside ( yes, there is indeed another man back home eagerly waiting to lick, greet and jump all over me the minute I'm back but that's another story for another day), I just look forward to head home every single time.

I just do.

For the lack of some fanciful words, home is well, home. It is where the village clam in me comes alive. The Ah Lian comes shinning thru.

Home is where I’m truly most relaxed. Like big time.

Weekends were spent literally doing nothing but just pigging out at the living room, watching another re-run of E ! Daily Ten, with two personal butlers at my beck and call. Yes, I’m an ingrate son, but sue me !

No draggin my arse to gym for the weekend cardio or think of what to eat for dinner. Everything is just so organic and lazy and need no planning. Well, almost no planning except my obligatory facial session with Ah Mian and massage session with Kak Ena whenever I’m back. Hell, even all that jazz are pre-arranged by me very efficient and loving mum.

Oh, such village life ! Me hometown ! Me love you long time !

As they say, one can pluck the clam out of her village, but one can never pluck the village out of her !

Peace out, kampung baru cheena style !

One Last Spurt

2007-09-09T21:43:00.000+08:00

We went and then we left.

It was supposed to be the end of an era, SATC style. And as much as I wanna wail, scream, cry a bucket and strip for her, aiks, it was not to be.

I felt ziltch. Nadah. No, no, no.

Highlight of the night.

I got ID-ed. Yes, yes, yes.

The Importance Of Being Cranky

2007-08-02T12:05:00.000+08:00

Boys, here's a lil tip for you lots.

Be cranky and foul once in a while. And you might get a nice lil lollipop in return.

Here's mine. From minge.

And yes, I am gloating !

Inside the first aid kit :

And the card says:

And yes, it's very satisfactory indeed !

PS : Thanks, Will for being such good sport to courier it !

A Dog's Life

2007-07-17T10:54:00.000+08:00

Foul or groggy will be best adjective to describe me lately.

I’m just …well, just not feeling all chirpy and tra la la. Ain’t too sure what’s the deal behind all these jazz but hey, I really don’t wanna dig deep into that pile of shite and smear myself further with brownie smudges.

Fuck it la !

All I know is I’m feeling a bit direction-less at the moment. Not to mention pretty much stagnant in many aspect of my life.

And way way way fucken HUGE. Any moment now and the friction between my two lovely thighs will be creating sparks, I kid you not !

Either that or I’ll start gathering tinder to kick-start a sacrificial ceremony real soon.

Life is a bitch, and I’m her mutt !

If I'm A Simpson

2007-07-11T08:34:00.000+08:00

This will be moi.

Name : Lola Seymour

Actual Name : Olufunmilola Simisola. African Yoruba name meaning “wealthy bitch”.

Age : Wey, none of yuo biznest !

Occupation : Call-center Witch

Marital Status : Fabulously single

Sexual Orientation : 90% hetero and 10% carpet muncher

Height : 175 cm

Weight : Fuck-off !

Biography :
Born in state of Nassarawa, Nigeria into a family of 11 before ‘migrating’ to USA at the tender age of 31. Lamenting the fact that there's no Mr. Right in Nigeria. Currently living in an apartment in the suburb of Springfield with two cats and three parrots. Dropped out from the Obafemi Awolowo University during her third year English Lit degree claiming irreconcilable differences. Previous jobs varies from runway plus-size model, kindergarten teacher to a casino croupier.

Clothing Style : Designer togs from Wal-mart. Loves skull prints and fitting pants.

Speaking Style :
Usually preachy and long-winded in heavily accented Pidgin Nigerian English. Normally spoken with spirit, emotion and a lot of gesticulations. Will sprout some Yoruba cuss words when agitated.

Dislike : Hates being called a babe. Or being told how lovely her butt is.

Likes : Accessorizing. The occasional ciggies session. And Apu.

General Demeanor : Aloof. And very much angsty.

Hobbies : Knitting. Eating. And watching Days of Our Lives.

Best qualities : Can talk. Good listener.

Worst qualities : Talk too much. Bad advisor.

Weaknesses : Fried chicken.

Talent : Can do a Nigerian Mariah Carey impersonation wonderfully well !

Favourite Phrase : 'Stupid man, no bi me break yua goat leg o!'

I Blame It On Chu !

2007-07-03T21:43:00.000+08:00

Body pump, specifically.

Silly ol me really. There I was, one fine evening, looking at the GX schedule, flipped my inner blond pubes, and before I realised it, pirouetted meself to that bitch of a class for the very first time.

Urghhh …

Body pump is all about ego, I tell ya. Those girls in my class are like on steroid or something. They were practically lifting plates 10 kg heavier than their bosoms.

And when ~~dykes~~ girls are like lifting lorries, now, surely a plump Dorothy like me can't simply lift a measly 2 kg, right ?

So, being the flaming piece of virgin crack that I am, I insisted on lifting 10 kg for the whole duration too. Yes, even during that bloody triceps session, damnit.

Aye shall not look like a pruned pussy !

And because of that, I'm shite ... My whole body is literally on strike, now. Can't even spread my legs without screaming like a bitch in heat.

Urghhh ...

The ache so unbearable that I had to "drag" me arse here to fix meself some much needed man-to-man ~~sensual~~ restorative kneading.

Oh life ! Heh.

London, Beijing or Hong Kong ?

2007-06-28T20:53:00.001+08:00

*fanning furiously*

Omg, they are back !

I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna really really really wanna zigazig ha ....

How To Annoy Your Friend Trick No 54

2007-06-27T21:40:00.000+08:00

ed says : Shite. I'm upset.
he says : Omg. why ? What's wrong ?
ed says : I've left the tweezer in my hometown !!!
he says : Huh ? for what ?
ed says : Hello. Didnt you notice that me armpits are beansprout-free !?
he says : Wtf ! $@#$%!!?&

and just like that, he went offline. Heh.

The 7 Hours Difference

2007-06-25T10:56:00.000+08:00

So what if we’ve been there, done that and probably still be doing it in months to come.

It’s a drag to wake up, realizing that I won’t be meeting him later tonight.

Saying goodbye is definitely not my forte. And never will be.

Holy Cow !

2007-06-21T08:53:00.000+08:00

The smell of oregano pervaded the air.

Ty, go away. Go and play in the living hall ! Pa is cooking here, can’t you see ? Shoo.

…

Hey you ! How’s your day ?

He crept up from behind and caught me by surprise.

Damn. Don’t that again ! You nearly made me spill the sauce with your hello ! Since when you are back ? I pretty sure I didn’t hear the door opening.

Well, of course, else where's the surprise then ? Heh.

He retorted before dishing out a small peck on my face.

Aiks ! I’m oily, for pete’s sake. Now, go and wash up. Dinner will be ready soon. And oh, please get the poor boy some food if you can. The way he is wagging, he certainly is waiting for his.

Yes, ma’am. Mandate noted.

He smirked.

And I rolled my eyes and continue cooking my pasta sauce.

The End.

.............................

I once told a dear friend my picket fence cookie cutter of a dream. Ages ago.

God, I'm such a woman !

Apostrophe-ed

2007-06-17T22:38:00.000+08:00

Their wedding triggered it. If only he wasn’t who he is. If I’m a woman instead.

Annual What ?

2007-06-14T13:37:00.000+08:00

Okay, I admit it. I’m super bitch when it comes to ‘little’ things. Things like :

Narcissistic retards that fucken gloat about themselves 24-7. Super sweet teh ais when I ordered it kurang manis. Spams. Durians.

And of course, unnecessary annual fees that's automatically charged into one's account.

Yeah, things like those get on my tits. Big time.

So, imagine me horror when I casually surfed into one of me accounts this morning, only to find that I was bitch-slapped with one.

Within seconds, this is what happened :

“Hi good morning Mr O. This is Gina speaking. How can I assist you ? “

“Yes, you can, Gina. There’s an annual fee charged into my account this month. And I’m not happy with it.”

“Okay. Oh, by the way, are you in Singapore, Mr O ?”

“Nope, I haven’t been back for quite sometime now. And if you look all my previous transactions, you will notice that it’s not transacted in Singapore. But that’s not relevant of me not being happy, right ? ”

“Yes, Mr O. Kindly gives me a moment and I’ll get back to you on this. Is that alright ?”

“Sure. A moment it is then.”

“Thanks.”

After a few minutes listening to crappy jingles :-

“Thanks for holding, Mr O. I have look into your request and I’m glad to inform you that the annual fees will be waived off for you.”

“Okay, thanks. Bye.”

“Okay, thanks for calling then. Have a nice day ahead, Mr O.”

"Sure. You too."

Moral of the story ?

Never pay for your credit card annual fees, like ever, people ! Call ‘em up and speak like a bitch with a super annoying fake accent and a waiver will be yours. Guaranteed.

Personally vouched by yours truly.

My First Time No #278

2007-06-10T11:48:00.000+08:00

Of having my brows plucked. By someone other than meself.

The feeling inside ?

Weird. And very very ghey.

Decision Decision

2007-06-08T00:03:00.000+08:00

"And another thing that Rosmah did not take into consideration is that Pak Lah would remarry. So that relegates her back to the role of Second Lady" - excerpts taken here.

Holy cow ! Politics was never this sexy ! I had a friggin blast reading that and this.

Classic ! Full-on Dynasty. Full of meows and much much more ... fuck friggity fuck, I like !

So, which team are you ?

Chow Kit Next Top Hag

2007-06-07T09:32:00.000+08:00

Am I cursed or what ?

All my lovely beautiful fag hags are either already plonked their arses in some foreign countries or going to be soon. First it was Adrina. Then Kate.

And now – my dear lovely Lili. That bitch is moving to the land of Gruyère cheese soon. To be nearer to the bf was her excuse but who is she kidding la ! Basically, that bitch has finally made it. She no longer needs to work, that bitch. Instead, she will have a small allowance to reward herself a LV come each month. Basically, Tai-tai will be her middle name. Jealous !

Anyway, so yeah..that bitch will be dipping her soy-sauce in Geneva come July. And with her gone, my status as an elitist ghey will be instantaneously downgraded as I will have no hag to flag ! Imagine this. All my hard work to amass meself fab hags over the years will be down the drain, literally.

So, nope, I could never let that happen. Never.

Desperate times calls for desperate measures. Thus, with that in mind, I have already zero-ed my interest on the latest casualty.

Boys. Let me introduce you to Yen.

Ex-Singapore girl. Now, a freelance make-up artist and trainer. Currently dating a yoga instructor *roll fishy eyes*. 5 feet 2 ( don't ask me how she got into SIA. Coz I have no friggin idea too ! High heels during interviews ? ). Petite and nimble. Shoulder length curvy hair. Very pretty with nice sweet dimples. But non prettier nor sweeter dimples than mine. *flips hair*

Near perfect ! Potential gem, no ?

So, folks, wish me luck in bagging her as my new ~~accessory~~ muse, yar !

Meanwhile, here’s a virtual toast to the homegirl, my dear fab Lili. You have served your reign extremely well and that any future new ~~bag~~ hag certainly got a super big stilettoes to fill ...

Have fun scrapping cheese in Swiss, girl !

Peace out !

The Anniversary

2007-06-03T11:43:00.000+08:00

God. It’s been a year since I’m back. Fuck. That’s fast. Didn’t I just twirl my big fat arse at Old Compton St, wearing my super fab Fabris Lane sunnies and plus-size jeans , like 4 days ago? Sigh … if only....

Yeah, I still miss Brit a lot. The greasy breakfast. The menstrual weather. The smell of council estates ( trust me, you can smell ‘em buildings. I kid you not. ) and of course, it’s scally residents. Omg. The scally men. Pound-me-hard look. Nasty. And often pasty. Omg, what’s there not to like ?

Anyway, so yeah…I’ve been back for a year now. And inevitably, there’s a report card to be submitted.

So how did the one year fare?

Well… it wasn’t smooth, that’s for sure. New environment. New job. New mode of relationship. New this and that. And like everything new, unfortunately, it’s not always good and fey. Lots of adjustment and compromises were made and wailed at. And not to mention heaps of frustrations and motel bills. Starting all over again was tough but being in a long distance relationship is even tougher.

Certainly ain’t an easy stroll. Admittedly, there were times where I was so overwhelmed by the whole situation, tempted to just raise the white flag and call it a day. Cried a bucket and a half. Kaput and all.

Oh come on ! Before you lots brandished me as a weak oriental doormat, cut me some slacks here, okay ... I'm only a ghey, you see. Drama is in my blood, for pete sake.

Oh well, I'm digressing again. Anyway, having bitched all that jazz, well, I’m glad that I managed to drag both my tits to the one year mark with minimum bruises.

Hey, at least I survived.

And as much as I want to credit my survival solely on meself, I can't. For I realized that, well … running alone is alright. But strolling beramai-ramai is way better.

Hence, here’s a toast to the folks that has willingly or unwillingly strut along with me during those bleak time of mine ( *insert drama episodes here* ). Without you lots, I probably would have jumped into that stinking mining pond in my fiery chilli red cheongsam during one of those roadblocks. Seriously.

So, fittingly, this entry is for you lots. Happy Anniversary, folks !

*shows gratitude face*

So You Think You Got Style ?

2007-05-31T23:22:00.000+08:00

I know, I know. I'm Evil. Mean. Tasteless. And a certified class D bitch.

But. But. But. But ... I can't just help it, okay ! So here goes : -

Ramli dear, mintak maaf ya, but if you are reading this ( zero chance ! ), what's with the hair la ? That burung sarang dang really really make my tits go all bursting and wobbly ler !

Like please, please, puhlease sack ur stylist !

Spa-ed !

2007-05-27T23:12:00.000+08:00

Okay, I don't really care for the herbal steam or the floral footbath or the tea ceremony ( a pot of ginger tea with two lil lemon cookies ain't a ceremony, okay ! ) or the disposable ~~panties~~ briefs that I gotta wear but ohmygawd, ohmyfuckengawd, the massage was a pure SIN ! Left right and center no less ...

To be manhandled by two masseur simultaneously for a good 50 minutes was pure orgasmic. Too bad they are fillies. Else, I'll be a happier ~~cummer~~ camper ! Heh.

Oh Mandara ! Oh Mandara !

I went in as a man and came out feeling like a woman. Pampered and fab !

Very noice indeed .....

Because I'm Loreal * ?

2007-05-17T01:52:00.000+08:00

He said it is. And somehow, I tend to agree ( ahem ! ).

Anyway, this is what minge got me the other day.

A package from them. Looking at the brochure, apparently it is the mama of all packages. Some signature treatment wor. Performed by two therapists ( *roll eyes* ) in a blend of 5 different massages styles ( wtf ? ) . And with a tea ceremony, a floral footbath and a steam shower infused with dunnoe what-jamu-ratu ( bridal alert ! bridal alert ! ) thrown into the picture as well. Omg, seriously ?

Honestly, if you ask me, me think it is way too pricey. For 400++ a pop, like hello, I can easily get like 8 sessions from err... i don't know, say places like these. Yeah, admittedly those places are slightly dodgy, but ermmmm.....end of the day, a massage is still a massage, no ? Prolly with happy ending summore hor. Heh.

So, yeah, it is a bit of an indulgence and minge really shouldn't have waste his hard earned cash this way. Having said that, I really really reaallli do appreciate the effort la. Afterall, he did remember me bitching about me yearning of a massage or two a couple of weeks ago.

So an extra large shoutout to minge for that. And of course, to the two Lagerfeld girls for all the layan-ing, planning and running around getting me this bridal gift on his behalf, a big big thank you, yar ! You guys rawk, tweed jacket style.

Five dicks-up for the effort but damn, so pressure la. Like how la to top this up the next time ?

I mean seriously, minge sayang, I certainly can't afford to sponsor those meranti timber flooring for the entire apartment just yet hor ....

* entry title courtesy of ciggie girl.

The Labels

2007-05-14T10:00:00.000+08:00

I've been called many things in my life.

The Bitch. Sei Fei Chai. Goody-Two-Shoes. Snob. Good-for-nothing. Slut. Katak. Lin Dai ( Don't ask ! ). Faggot. Minge. Muff. Whore. Lesbian. Bookworm. Gorgeous ( ahem ! ). The Flamer. Fatty Bom Bom. Stewpid. Smarty Pants ( double ahem ! ). Gemuk. Gold-digger. Pat Poh. Woman. The Butt-Plug. Arty Farty. Bumboy. Twat. The Queen.

And soon, I'll have meself a brand new tag. Adding to the oh-so-flattering list of mine.

The ~~Getratic~~ *Geriatric.

Yippee. Yay. Die.

* re-edit. salah spelling. heh.

Baby Steps

2007-05-05T10:49:00.000+08:00

So, yeah ... the time has finally arrived for minge's debutante. Parading me spud to me straighter than straight homies in another round of homo-coming.

Okay, first thing first. If I'm allowed to be honest here, the whole idea of introducing minge to me hometown friends is really really a train wreck if not traumatizing. Ever since my yes-folks-i-am-flaming-flamingo episode, the homies has been pressuring me to introduce minge to 'em lots. Now, that episode itself was traumatizing enough, so imagine me horror of introducing minge to 'em.

Oh come on, cut me some slack here, okay !? Fyi, I've been closeted to 'em for more that a decade now and I've just rafflesia-ed myself to them last year. So, I'm still a lil uncomfy and one oughta understand me situation here. Even though they have accepted me for being a butt-plug, but hey, in our hood, trudging activities are still not widely spread and it's still talked in a hush-hush manner, okay ! Mainstream it wasn't.

And on top of that, I must also make sure that me homies likes minge. Yes, they have to. They ought to.We have to. Theory is, well if we are ever to fancy us some prissy god-daughters, being chummy with some ~~breeders~~ straight lovely friends is a good starting point, no ?

And all this jazz is basically on my end. Wouldn't want to imagine what's on minge end. Surely ain't a strut down the catwalk, that's for sure.

Anyway, back to the storyboard. So, the date was set and the debutante was organized. Minge was to meet all 6.5 of them. The gig started a bit shaky as minge being minge, he overslept and we were late. As we all know, late and good impression are two nasty bitches when caged together !

So, bummer, not exactly a good start. But phew, that hiccup aside, the whole shebang went well, I suppose. The first few minutes of introducing minge to 'em lots was a bit of a kerfuffle, but thank god things started to flow on nicely soon after. Heck, after awhile, we were even able to insert some cocks, nipples, clamps and whatnot talks into the whole dang without much censorship.

And I have to say, minge was fierce ! Thanks to his okay PR skills, me homies thought that I've bagged meself a decent hunk-a-spunk !

"Not too shady, Eddie boy!", they collectively agreed.

So yeah, I guess the whole dang ain't that bad after all. We did good. Minge and I. Another homo step conquered, a gazillion more to go. Oh well, that's life, innit ?

And oh by the way, I think our name might even be in some potential god-parents list real soon too !

*smirk*

Bleeding

2007-04-30T17:55:00.000+08:00

We are asexual.

Oh yes, we are. Sex is over-rated. And making love is such a waste of time. Unlike eating. Or sleeping. Or watching Kath and Kim. We concur.

Vertical drilling or trudging or tunnelling or excavating doesn't interest us no more. And that gobbling up and down gives us locked jaw too.

So these days, we are asexual. Oh yes, we are. Gaze into each other eyes till we fall asleep. Eat and then sleep. Or go online and then sleep.

Oh, we are asexual. And we love it. And how we wished we are.

For motel bills are not nice. Really really not nice.

Six Feet Under Still

2007-04-21T12:39:00.000+08:00

Crikey, it's been long innit ?

Oh well, being queer basically means I can just choose NOT to blog coz well, there's nothing fey-worthy to blog about. No ?

The thing is well, things has been pretty much mundane and douche-free for the couple of months, so honestly, salacious gossips I offered none. Liza with the Z would have agreed.

Anyway, bitching of being queer and all, thanks to a certain fab soul, I've recently discovered the joy of singing my mary heart out watching this ! If this ain't something fab, I have no idea what is !

Hug me hard, please ! Peace out ...

One Of 'Em Days

2007-02-04T10:02:00.000+08:00

You suspect it is one of 'em days when you woke up thinking it's Monday and there's a pile of warm shites waiting to be flattened and scooped out.

You suspect it's one of 'em days when the rice noodle you had earlier tasted totally different from the day before. It's bland and the condiments colourless and annoying.

You suspect it's one of 'em days when you are frustrated. And you don't really know who or what you are frustrated with. Just frustrated.

You suspect it's one of 'em days when you just want to curl up in bed and talk to no one. A simple how-are-you will certainly triggered the diarrhoea floodgate.

And then you realised. Like how you realised things after a bout of analysing. And moaning. And bitching.

Bloody hell, it is one of 'em days !

Exactly like one of 'em days mum always tells you whenever it is one of 'em days.

"What's wrong, mi ?"

"Nothing. Just of of 'em days."

"You know, just one of 'em days."

A Comfortable Thought

2007-01-30T21:03:00.000+08:00

It's indeed a comforting thought to know that you are his number 1. After his family, air miles and mazda 3. Oh my Emily, ever so sweet and nice !

Hey, at least, I know now that should the mazda and I died at the same time, which wake minge is gonna attend !

Oh Emily, this is all good ... all good ...

Don't You Dare Bury Me, Just Yet !

2007-01-13T12:53:00.000+08:00

Just a quik beep to reiterate that I'm not dead, I'm still crude and damn, the douche is still way under-utilised.

And why I nearly creamed watching this :

Okay,okay, it's lame to post a youtube and call it an entry.

But hey, better than nothing, no ?

Auld What ?

2007-01-01T21:42:00.000+08:00

A brand new year and a brand new plank. Treacherous and all.

Happy Tiptoe-ing, people ....

Season Beatings

2006-12-24T15:48:00.000+08:00

Damn, it's another year. Of good times, medium times, medium-medium times and the pooh-pooh times all ready to be capsuled. And naturally, time for some report card thingamajig as well. But hey, why burden oneself with such heavy task when there's still like a week to go. Party first and strip later, no ?

So till then, a Very Merry Queermas and a Faggy New Year !

Quadruple Salchows all around !

Honey, I've Been Spammed !

2006-12-15T00:39:00.000+08:00

At exactly 5.33 pm yesterday, I received the below sms :

Boyz! 2nite Thursday 8pm "LA BEAR CAFE" Grand Opening ( behind Carrefour Jalan Peel ) Showtime@10.30pm feat. BB Ken Poh. NO Covercharge. info : 017-2055XXX

Okay, here's my first reaction :
Fuck my hula hoop, first there's La Queen ( *yawn* ) and now, La Bear. Oh dear, why oh why ? One more La This and that's it, I'm gonna turn me back from the Bacardi Coke squad !

Then, I realised :
Omg, triple fuck my hula hoop, am I thinking what I am thinking ? Are we having a brand new place that's catering for omg, a niche market ?! And now..which of you beetches have just out-ed me ? Else how would they knew that Ms. Goldilocks here do like him some papa bears ! Fur on the side please.

And then the divination :
Wtf does BB in BB Ken Poh stands for ? Err... Baby Bear ? *roll eyes*

I Blame It On You, Simon !

2006-12-09T12:36:00.000+08:00

This time last year, everyone who knows me knows not to poke me on a Saturday night between 6.30 to 10.00 pm. Saturday night Soho slutting will have to wait. That I should not be in anyway disturbed during that period is well, an understatement. Yes, I am that whacked when it comes to me and me X-factor time. Anyway, that was last year.

This year was a lil different. A bit of a bum, to be honest. For a start, I'm back. So no live feed on Saturday or that Saturday self-imposed exile or that chance to vote ( the chinese in me will never ever allows me to vote, but hey, options are always always good, no ? ). But hey, at least I'm still able to follow it like religiously. Thanks to those lovely seeders and the world of illegal downloads ! Okay, it ain't exactly live feed and I sorta knew who puffed out this week and i am watching episodes aired like ten years ago but hey, beggars can't be chooser.

But that's not the point. The point is everytime when I watch 'em episodes, somehow, in a totally unrelated fashion, I began to feel a lil train-wreck-edy ! Reminiscing of days gone by. And missing random things and folks like these ..

Yes, I blame it on that bloody show. How dare you, Simon ! How dare you make a ghey feel such way !

And oh, you better fix the show to let my current fav homegirl to win ! Else, I shall wail ... She is fierce, ya'll !

Homegirl Scares Me Sometimes

Pierce Who ?

2006-11-19T01:58:00.000+08:00

Okay, this is goin to be a no-brainer.

So, yeah, I always dig Daniel Craig. Long before all those double vodka shit. Jewnow, Layer Cake, The Mother and all.

But now, Dan, omg, me love you long time !

What's not to love, eh ? That brute face, those piercing blue eyes, those runway shoulders, those concrete abs, those perfectly nibble-able nipples and omg those nicely tuffed moist blonde pits ! With decent ( hey, not gonna go all berserk with my compliments here, okay ! ) acting skills.

Omg, he can Vesper Lynd me anytime ! And just to digress a bit, the film kinda rawks too !

She Has A What ?

2006-11-15T22:45:00.000+08:00

Omg, what will you do when you found out that your lil sista, as in we-share-the-same-biological-father-and-mother-real-sista-sista whored a blog too ?

Omg, what will you do ? What will you do ?

Well, I'm yet to check it out and I doubt I want to check it out. Entries on her doing nasty with her boy, leg wide open and all that kimchi jazz are definitely something I want to know, NOT ! She is afterall me lil sis !

Aiks, call me a prude and I shall not fight back for now ....

Don't Go Giving Me Evils

2006-11-07T19:49:00.000+08:00

So, I haven't been blogging for awhile. But hey, when there's a block, there is a block, no ? Blog or not.

Anyway, I'm back and jewnowhat, me life is in such lull mode these days that nuffink is worthy of a mention except, well me new job.

Yes, I've twirled myself back into that yes-I'm-still-not-a-friggin-tai-tai-so-I-still-friggin-have-to-work phase. As much as I'm excited about it, work is practically non-existent for now and as fidgety as I am about doing nothing and yawning all day long, I shall not bitch about it just yet. Hopefully, things will pick up down that treacherous road real soon. An old fag can only hope, I guess.

And speaking of fag, gsus cries, can't help but wonder, am I really that OBVIOUS ? See, so far I've been prodded twice. Yes, not once. But praise the lord, twice. In the new workplace.

With ~~dildos~~ questions ranging from bumdar-visitor, why-single to oh-nice-earring-but-why. Okay, granted that sometimes I do walk like a woman and roll my eyes and wink and flail, but hey, since when does all that translates to all things faggotry ? I mean, most woman does that, no ?

Oh well, I guess it's one of those Bacardi and Coke situation and I can't be arsed, really. Afterall, I'm quite good in doin a Sebastian.

Yes, ask me anything bling, bum and sphincter-try, and I'll whatevah you ! Simple yet sweet. Not to mention cute ! Bleaah ....

My Dark Choklet-Like Lumps

2006-10-21T14:19:00.000+08:00

Urggh, the smell of Belacan permeating almost friggin everywhere at the moment is just turning me ON big time, NOT !

To the gorgeous neighbour next door who is happily goreng-ing your piquant belacan, my my, you are such a considerate creature, no ? Rushing for that Raya de rigueur belacan dip huh ?

How lovely of you, indeed !

Am.Not.A.Wimp

2006-10-19T23:31:00.000+08:00

So, I've finally done it. Signed a year away. Honestly, not too sure exactly how I'm supposed to feel.

Celebratory ? Err...not just yet. Defeated ? A lil. Numb ? Hell yeah.

Life is a bitch, I guess. And like all her bitches, surely I'm entitled to whine and dine about it for just a little bit more ! But just.

Cause come next week, and I shall own it like some crabs owning her territory ! *pouts determinedly*

Of Frisky Doodles And Tuesday Blues

2006-10-17T02:55:00.000+08:00

Oh dear, either I'm too damn bored or because it's Tuesday.

Suspect it's the latter. You see, I'm usually kinda "itchy" on a Tuesday.

The Stew Part 46

2006-10-15T13:15:00.000+08:00

Almost every good run comes with it's bloody finishing line. Life is a bitch, that way. So, Minge is once again bidding adieu to Asia. And for the second time, I'll most likely gonna order a big bowl of Bah Kut Teh later. For one.

Oh well. Annoyed, yes. Sick. A lil.

Wail like a madwoman ? Oh, not just yet.

The Bunny Stew

2006-10-10T00:28:00.000+08:00

Episode 143

Minge 1 : Omg, like I think I miss you.

Minge 2 : Omg, like we just saw each other like just now.

Minge 1 : I know.

Minge 2 : Omg, I'm scared.

Damn, am I one bunny boiler in the making ?

Oh, fuck friggity fuck !

Of A Previous Butt-Plug

2006-09-30T11:55:00.001+08:00

I wrote the below diabetic monstrosity more than a year ago. And somehow, it's still very much relevant, the main drill that is. Today especially. Coz minge is on his way back. And I'm shamelessly on caramel drips !

It was one of those balmy nights. A night where summer decided to pay a visit. It was quite stuffy, the room that is, that you somewhat wished the presence of a desk fan. Like the one that served you good throughout the summer this year. The one that’s sitting comfortably within the alcove of your room. It might be a frivolous thing to request during the usual cool chilly nights, but night like this, it certainly is a friggin necessity.

It undoubtedly would have at least pledge half of a good night sleep. The other being a pair of earplugs which unfortunately you do not possess.

Anyway, the night is getting geriatric and you are ready to call it a day. The lights are off, the alarm fixed and the mobile silenced.

You are ready to mumble good night before he interrupted you. He, who is now lying in his own bed on the other side of the room. He, being the host of your crash-in stay tonight.

“Do you think you guys are going to last long?” he asked.

Holy fuck. You thought. What a question. Only a young kid like him can produce such inquiry. You simply have to hand it to him to yield a question of such randomness and trickiness that to casually answering it will do it no justice at all. So, you ponder for a moment.

And just as the moment passed, and you are about to begin your reply, as your mouth is actually open, forming the first words of your reply, you realized that by saying, yes, you are confident that it will, is no longer a valid answer. By saying yes, somehow, seems not right. It seems very much a naïve answer, and you are way beyond your naïve phase. Early twenties you are not.

So, you needed another round of a moment. And when that moment finally passed, you let slip of this.

“Ermmm… How shall I put it … Not too sure how long it will last nor do I think I should speculate it’s duration lor but I certainly do see a future with him. And as long as the future is visible, I see a long road ahead. End of the day, everything is a work in progress, no?”

And at that point, you lose track of how hot the night was, or how you wish you are a necromancer, summoning the dead to teletransport the fan over, because somehow, the night doesn’t seem that rugged after all. In fact, it feels moderately cooler.

Man, thinking of him seems to done it again!

The Brew

2006-09-24T13:08:00.000+08:00

Sure, getting together takes a bloody a good intervention, divine or not. But fuck me, being together takes a hell lot more than just some dusty pink sprinkles from some deluded aging fairies. Add a year or two being together, and double fuck me, it's certainly an uphill task for Jane and her Elaine !

Some keeps the fire burning by doing smoochy stuffs. Shoving each other's ~~arse~~ mind with poetry. Lick the cream off each other. Or maybe go for a love cruise or sumfink.

Me and Minge, ~~sadly~~ well, being romantic ain't really our dang.

Reading poetry to each other is certainly out of our league. We are more likely to burst into a verse from Cracking Whitney than say, murmuring Tagore. Lick cream off each other ? Like hello ?! Like why waste it. It taste better with ice-cream than say, on some pole.

How bout love cruise, you asked. Oh yes, we did give that a shot, but what a kerfuffle it was ! Instead of ravishing each other with our longing gaze while letting the cold sea breeze enraptured us or something liddat, that minge went for a nap. Oh yes, he went for a nap. Apparently, the view overlooking Venice was boring and there's nothing to see. And Piazza San Marco is just an icky square with lotsa icky pigeons.

And don't even get me started on how he celebrated my barf-day this year. Well, to keep the story less bitchy and bitter, he wrote this on the b-day card - I suck at writing, so can I suck you instead. Fair enuff, I thought. But damn, did my cheese gets any scrapping that night ? Hell no ! He was tired after cooking the dinner and well, like all tired fags, went straight to sleep.

So, what is the basic fundamental of our relationship, eh ? Surely being romantic ain't one of them. And, jewnowhat, I'm no longer a Mariah too. Days of deluding myself that being romantic is all we need in a relationship no longer applies, just like days of looking into the mirror and admiring my perky manboobs.

On my end, I guess what kept me latching onto him was the fact that he is real. No gloss over and certainly no pretense. Just raw and urgghh... real. Telling me just like it is and nothing more. No whipped cream on top or caramel drips.

Which is a good thing, really. For every fake jennnies like me, we really do need a real jenny to spank our arse. So, yeah, I guess that's basically it. We keep brewing because the stock is real, yes, no, minge ?

So, yeah, screw you, Jane Austen, like me like the current dang bet-ah ! Now, minge, please buy lotsa backdated Heat mags back to Msia, kay ?

A Quik Orgasm And The Subsequent Jizz

2006-09-15T18:07:00.000+08:00

Ohmegod, like less than 6 hours since I've decided that there is no need to flung me lumpy arse out of KL Tower, I'm beginning to sweat for my next project. Project Let's-Decide-Ed's-Next-Move. And then, there's also that shelved Let's-Get-Ed-Back-To-Size-Cow project to consider.

For nothing is gay about doing nothing. And surely, nothing is anywhere pink when your once perky manboobs are now two gigantic saggy papayas !

Urghh. Talk about CERTIFY-ED wet blanket.

Oh No, Not Another Emo Post !

2006-09-10T03:11:00.000+08:00

So, it's been more than 3 months since I'm back. Not exactly a long time but hey, it's more than a quarter of the year spent ! So, ain't exactly the duration of a Project Runway episode either.

Surely by now, I should've done with the whole humdrum of settling down. But damn, it's not even close. The way I see it, not even my arse are plonking herself willingly to the whole let's-make-ourselves-at-home dang.

Which shouldn't be the case. After all, this is me home for a good chunky years. Few years away and I'm a stranger in my own country ? Like hello, please lah ! Stop acting like a twat.

But this is exactly my problem. That I am a twat. Who is treating the whole me-is-back dang ever so transiently. And not making any real effort to change that. Guess I'm just missing my carefree days very very much and not willing to let them go just yet.

Days of which I can easily plan a trip to somewhere and won't cost me a cock and a whole lot of sacks. Days where I can go all kakak and care shites. And of course, days of no worries, plenty of grass stains and yes, being the good ol' maid.

Oh well, that's life innit ? Guess I need more time, that's all. To sink-in, cross that line and wrap it up.

And to bloody start a new run.

Project Ed's-Way

2006-09-09T18:04:00.000+08:00

6 more days. And then, either he's in or he's out !

The Ghey Curse

2006-09-02T18:07:00.000+08:00

Sigh.

Being ghey is never easy, issit ?

Not only we have to deal with pesky omg-omg-i-know-this-single-accountant-girl-so-should-i-shall-i-? ~~enemies~~ relatives, we are also emo-freaks ! Being menstrual is a norm occurrence for us bumboys. Just like them real girls with real labia but without discharges. But that's just a scratch on the surface.

We are also one paranoid-slash-insecure bunch. We constantly remind ourselves that we are fab, deluded or not. Or that, one more bite of that keropok lekor and you're officially a tractor.

Vanity is our religion and gym is our shrine. In fact, any ghey boy worthy of his coiffured pubes will flag his gold gym membership card for all to see. Not a member ? Mygawd, such sin. Not a member and you're a fat ghey boy ? Sorry babe, not even Satan would want you as his cuffed slave ! Gym is no longer just part of a lifestyle, lurve. It's a necessity, for pete's sake.

Like it or not, we must also constantly re-invent ourselves. In order to be marketable. And not just for the niche market. Oh, come on, let's face it.

Niche is sad. Mass is gay.

So evidently, we dig deep for those foundation, mascara, eyecurlers and what-not. To keep up. And of course, that's just a scratch too. What is a ghey boy without his nice v-necks, calvin klien undies, rock-and-republic jeans and those to-die-for manolos ?

But heck, that's not really an issue lah. We are conditioned for those dang, more or less, no ? Not really that shocking for most in the fraternity, so to speak. And me included.

But what I am SO not prepared for, are these lil gems:

So, ed, what are you ? You know, are you a girl or boy ? What's flip-flop ? ( Omg, stop rolling your eyes, beyotches ! ) Oh, how many men have you slept with, arh ? Wah, so many meh ?So, when was your first time arh ? Good or not ? Eh, why you like cock arh ? How long you know you like cock, already ? Petpet no good for you meh ?

Okay, some of you will think - Eh, what's so big deal with those ? We girls like to share info, wat ! Well, of course we do. And I won't even bat an eyelid if it's some intrusion from me bitches. But fuck me, not when it's being posted by some hometown friends. Straighter-than-pole hommies-slash-primary-slash-secondary-school-frens that I have known for 20-odd years and to whom I have recently came out to. Now, ever since that rain-on-me day, not only I'm their designated ghey-encyclopedia, apparently I'm also the resident's slut !

Men-to-men thingamajig ? Oh, we know, let's ask ed ! He ah, a lot of experience wan !

Damn, this is shitty ! Now, I am prepared to be constantly moody and critical of pisang goreng/goreng pisang. Heck, I'm even ready to attend another round of family wedding dinner. But to be straight men's consultant to anything ghey, that, my dear, am not prepared just yet. Like it's totally weird-ing me out. And a bit salah too.

Boys, like, can't we talk about Man U, cars and why Ipoh chicks are so damn fair, instead ? Just like good old days, no ?

Emancipated ? Not Just Yet.

2006-08-31T00:25:00.000+08:00

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 !

2006-08-27T10:56:00.000+08:00

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 ?

2006-08-26T22:37:00.000+08:00

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

Lyk hopefully ...

Hurdle Comes, Hurdle Goes

2006-08-24T01:23:00.000+08:00

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 !

2006-08-19T23:49:00.000+08:00

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

2006-08-15T21:07:00.000+08:00

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 ?

2006-08-11T14:50:00.000+08:00

*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 ?

2006-08-08T00:21:00.000+08:00

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

2006-08-03T16:24:00.000+08:00

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

2006-08-02T00:43:00.000+08:00

Omg, this is beyond rude.

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

Without me !

The Perfect Accomplice

2006-07-29T00:20:00.000+08:00

So, there I was, happily clicking away on pictures taken from our not-so-recent getaway. Reminiscing obviously of good ol' times. And then, not unlike some pinkish light shining brightly upon me, I saw it !

Yes, I saw it !

The single thing I miss most about the whole trip ! Besides minge bf, of course. Well ...

Yes, I can do away with that nice four poster canopy bed, that funky daybed or even the lush surrounding but damn, do I bloody not miss that table or what ?!

My my, that wonder of a furniture.

See, that beyotch was the perfect prop. For some strenuous excercises ! For she's very stable and very much the right height.

Contains Aspartame

2006-07-27T16:31:00.000+08:00

Muff Salesgirl : Hello, can I help you ?

Minge Me : Err ... uhmmm..

Muff Salesgirl :Yes ?

Minge Me : Err ... am looking for something for my mum. Will this product be suitable for her ? Will this do the trick ?

Muff Salesgirl : Oh yes, of course. This is one of our best-selling product. Quite effective wan. Guy also can take wan. Unisex product ....

Minge Me : Oh really, that's great. Okay, I'll take it.

Muff Salesgirl : Make sure your mum follow the instruction stated on the booklet. It should be working. You can make the payment over the counter. Thank you.

Minge Me : Oh, thanks. I'll make sure she reads it ! Throughly.

Oh shite, I’ve officially arse-parked meself to a new low. Not only I’ve used the oh-no-it’s-not-for-me-it’s-for-my-mum-or-sis card again, I’ve bought meself this :

And them aspartame tasted really minge. Perhaps I will "buy" it for me mum after all.

False Start

2006-07-26T22:42:00.000+08:00

Surely, a brand new brothel surely calls for a bubbly toast or two. Oddly though, I kinda miss the old den. Where all the bitches reside. And memories too.

And me still in a perpetual constipated mode, can’t help but wonder how long this new venture will last. This is all the minge’s fault.

Missing him kinda cramped my style !