fancy schmancy cars

these few days walking back home had been quite a pain. literal pain.

reason? someone bought a glittery silver two-seater BMW with red seats (red seats!) and is making funky appearances out of nowhere when i return home. not only that, it sometimes is parked two doors down and i cannot help but notice its deliberately quiet presence. each time i pass by it i pinch myself to make sure i'm really seeing liquid acceleration in statis - the gorgeous things that's got enough sparkle and shine to last them through enough starless nights in a lifetime paired with just the right amount of sexual leather. and the steering wheel - OH good heavens the steering wheel! wrapped in leather and stitched just so - and not dreaming.

what i would give to sit inside, have a feel of the vehicle, run my hands on the inside of the car, knowning what i touch will be c-l-a-s-s (trust me, if i could change the font for 'c-l-a-s-s-' to something curvy and elaborate here, i would) - though i do think i would be even more appreciative if i knew how to drive. THAT's when sitting in the driver's seat will really, REALLY, make my day. (wow) did i mention i have a thing for being the driver? i have a thing for being the driver.

anyways - back to the two cars that appear in my neighbourhood - sometimes when the silver surfer's real life steed is parked on my lane, his friend wonder woman must have decided to visit cause i ALSO get a leather-topped blue two-seater SOMETHING (i don't know what it's called) cruising through my lane with what, maroon seats (?) and furry white dice dangling from the rearview mirror.

oh. wait. dangling white dice - maybe that'd be superman.


but i digress. so these two very pretty cars make their independent appearances and i go weak in the knees though i try very hard not to stare and be cool about it, walking down my lane jauntily, pretending not to give a hoot whether it's a lotus or a panini. but after it passes i would say to myself - good golly, that's a FINE car! - and mean it.

for, motor moron or not, i certainly appreciate a hot ride; whether i can tell a lamborghini HEATHEN and jaguar 5000 series X1322 apart is another question altogether. (merc? too common these days and nobody really bothers what its model name is. not me, at least. heh)


...having said that, i do, of course sometimes question the sensibility of parking the convertibles in the open with the hood still tucked away somewhere. i mean, what if people aren't polite appreciators like me and aren't content with just admiring it without touching it? what if they - God forbid - decide that they'd take liberties with my apple red Siren and hop in, have their way with the steering wheel and gear shift and (oh good heavens) have a friend take pictures - PICTURES! - of them with their low-quality mobile phone cameras?? what if they make obscene F1 racetrack noises while they're still inside my baby??!?!

OH GAWDS NOHOHOO!!


what if it rains? people keep a lid on their drinks for a reason too you know - and it's not because they like to drink outdoors when the storm is brewing. i would NEVER want my beloved darling car to be caught out in the rain like that - i would hold a BIG brolly over it and sit with it through the dark frightening nights when it's pouring buckets.

because putting a plastic sheet over it and allowing the rain to pound on it is wrong. just wrong. and even more wrong because it's like a blanket party. >:x

yes i could simply draw up the hood and sit inside while playing the radio but you're missing the point altogether.






hm. you know what?

i wouldn't want to own a car like that. i know, i know, after talking about them as if they're gifts from the Almighty - and they may well be - i wouldn't know how to keep them in their best condition and i'd hate have to deal with the aftermaths of nonsensical people taking turns at my car without my key. heck, even that sounds like molest, or worse, indecent exposure. think of the horrors my baby-poo would have to put up with!

...best leave it to the people with the knowledge and the means to upkeep these pretty things. meanwhile, i guess i can only look on in envy and appreciation, and respect the sleek little thing for what it is.


a toast to that.

when you realise you're in love

yes.

when you realise you're in love. with your friends, with your family, with everyone that you ever called when it's dark and quiet all over your neighbourhood. you realise that it is these very people that you call friends, and they, you.

sometimes it takes just a hello call, regardless whether it is you calling them or they calling you, to be reminded just why you love them so.

and because of that particular call, i am inspired to write about how to kill a cockroach. read on.

---


there had been rumours that, if you were to take a roll of newspaper and smack the literal living daylights out of the roach you see, chances of you having:

1) to wipe up the brown stinking remains are - very high
2) them trailing all over your vanity (or your trophy case) because you missed - very high
3) smashed a few things - low; cause i hope you know to pick your battles
4) spread them eggs wherever you brought The Newspaper Roll of Cockroach Doom down onto that brown scuttling no-good - super duper sky-high

and the best part is that you can't see them eggs. those brown guinea pig-output-like pellets you see stuck onto some surfaces? they're not roach poo, neither. no, they don't exactly work like lizards that leave little surprises on random surfaces - those are roach eggs in a case.

..but you know that. ;P


so. if rumours were true (i don't want to find out, though i probably should have done the research, considering that the saying "the more you fear/hate someone/something, the more you should know about it" is my motto) - then smacking them would be a BIG no-no. plus insecticides don't work as well no more cause the roaches are developing resistances.

therefore if we were to continue trying to eradicate them with insecticide, we will eventually knock our kids and dogs out with the very same can of yuck. that's also why, on top of marketing/business strategies, we get "STRONGER, MORE POWERFUL THAN BEFORE!" cans of spray every once in a while: they get updated.

thus, to nip that in the bud: kill said six-legged freaks with shampoo. or body lotion.

rationale? nothing - i repeat: NOTHING - survives without air.

(well YOU try breathing when your head's submerged in shampoo. it's thick and gooey, easy to wash off only when you have a steady stream of water AND hands: something insects do not have a habit of having brought with them)


so - do try to muster whatever quivering courage you have, get near to the scuttling creep, and generously dollop the cancer-causing concoction over its head.


that's right. it's head. and when i say dollop, i mean DOLLOP - plural if you've bad aim - for if its head is slimed then running will be quite hard indeed. that's when you cover the sucker with goo on its head and shoulders.

i normally concentrate on its head for i've noticed that they stop moving after a while and continue to stop moving for a few days after when i didn't have the guts to remove the body.

you may, of course, choose carry on with the rest of its body. just to make sure it's dead, you know. i, for one, will understand perfectly. :D

good points of this method: -

1) whatever mess you have created smells nice. it should, for you wouldn't buy anything that stinks to wash your body with, now would you.

2) cleaning up is easy, considering it's just shampoo/lotion AND still in one piece. it's simply about wiping it all away, sans the yuck juice. plus a bit of water, if you're conscientious. insecticides tend to leave an oily film that not only smells bad it's not healthy to keep about. never mind that it helps KO unsuspecting wandering insects - you know how often you have to pass by that spot. if it's worth it, by all means. otherwise - don't, cause cleaning up an insecticide stain can be as bad as having to clean up roach juice (chemicals. hello?) - that and you require some soap to get rid of it and that's additional work on top of you having to endure every moment of its fragrant insecticidey existence.

3) said dead insect still intact, so chances of tiny eggs getting stuck between the wood on your parquet flooring after being splattered all over - assuming, of course, that the egg-spreading rumour's true - are reduced to a virtual zero.

4) great way to ensure the roach is deader than dead, cause insecticides only KNOCK THEM OUT. if you threw them out without some friendly crushing (assuming you're not keen to stomp on them outside only to wade back to your home with roach eggs on the soles of your footwear) to they actually come to and make a happy meal out of your thrash.


thus.

of course, killing roaches like that involves some dexterity and it helps you get over your fear of them. having said that, though, i have to mention that it's an entirely different issue they're flying.


that's when you run the heck away.

cut it out.

cutting it out. i think i'd cut someone's heart out today.

i must be heartless.

i don't feel good about it, i don't feel bad. maybe i really am emotionless, eh.


i'm so sorry.

existing in my own home

today i existed in my own home.

cruised the waters of time after i stepped off its sands. typing out something while sitting on my bed with the radio singing oldies goodies in the background. and i felt at ease with my staying at home.

no, i didn't need a companion. if there were to be 'the other half' somewhere it wouldn't have quite made any difference. ...and i guess i'm happy being single, being solitary.

there's a hole in my bucket!

There's a Hole in the Bucket
Traditional


(Boys)
There's a hole in the bucket, dear Liza, dear Liza,
There's a hole in the bucket, dear Liza, a hole.

(Girls)
So fix it dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
So fix it dear Henry, dear Henry, fix it.

With what should I fix it, dear Liza, dear Liza,
With what should I fix it, dear Liza, with what?

With straw, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
With straw, dear Henry, dear Henry, with straw.

But the straw is too long, dear Liza, dear Liza,
The straw is too long, dear Liza, too long.

So cut it dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
So cut it dear Henry, dear Henry, cut it!

With what should I cut it, dear Liza, dear Liza,
With what should I cut it, dear Liza, with what?

Use the hatchet, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
Use the hatchet, dear Henry, the hatchet.

But the hatchet's too dull, dear Liza, dear Liza,
The hatchet's too dull, dear Liza, too dull.

So, sharpen it, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
So sharpen it dear Henry, dear Henry, sharpen it!

With what should I sharpen it, dear Liza, dear Liza,
With what should I sharpen, dear Liza, with what?

Use the stone, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
Use the stone, dear Henry, dear Henry, the stone.

But the stone is too dry, dear Liza, dear Liza,
The stone is too dry, dear Liza, too dry.

So wet it, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
So wet it dear Henry, dear Henry, wet it.

With what should I wet it, dear Liza, dear Liza,
With what should I wet it, dear Liza, with what?

With water, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
With water, dear Henry, dear Henry, water.

With what should I carry it, dear Liza, dear Liza,
With what should I carry it dear Liza, with what?

Use the bucket dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
Use the bucket, dear Henry, dear Henry, the bucket!

There's a hole in the bucket, dear Liza, dear Liza,
There's a hole in the bucket, dear Liza, a hole.

flaky li'l tart

...and since i don't have the wealth, let me be the money-hungry gold-digging little tart that the naive (but rich!) young man falls in love with.

and then i shall, through his determination to be with a poor shrimp like me and opposes family wishes and therefore absconds from his gilded and cushioned jet-setting cage and abandons his platinum credit cards and elopes - against my wishes - with me - realise that love is not about money.

it's about leaving money for love.


...and i have to curse the living daylights out of my stars. nabeh.


how romantic. :D

another brick in the wall am i

this is another reason why i don't want to fall in love.

you think you'd found the perfect one. then you realise you're doing that thing you do again. and you step back, reminded why you aren't attached to start with, the reason why you're 'a player' then, and when you're not 'a player' you're 'heartless', even 'cold'.

who's this magnanimous to accept you for who you are?

who'll be so blind to say 'i love you for you' and mean it, and take you, warts and shoe fetish and all, and endure 'to have and to hold'? men don't do that. and women, progressively, don't do that neither.

methinks i'm one of the few.


on the other hand, i may be wrong.

and then there's the third hand................ good Lord.

how true!

courtesy of msn:

1. Everything we buy for ourselves--shoes, a skirt, even just stuff from the drugstore--really costs 20 percent more than we tell you it did.
Just because it's a classic sitcom plot doesn't mean it isn't true. "Sometimes I'll buy an outfit and charge half of it on our credit card and pay for the other half in cash so my husband doesn't know what I'm actually spending," admits one 32-year-old, who requested anonymity to protect her sneaky secret. Yeah, we know honesty is the best policy, hiding your spending habits is bad, blah blah blah. But sometimes we just don't want the hassle of arguing over the price of the fancy shampoo. Is that so wrong? We don't think so.

2. We actually think about sex--with you!--a lot.
Sometimes we think about it all day long. It's just that by the end of the day we're too damn tired to do anything about it. Now, if you could only catch us at lunchtime....

3. We're just as nervous about commitment as you are.
True, many girls grow up dreaming of Prince Charming, the white wedding, and happily ever after. But we're human, just like you, and when it comes down to the reality of tying our life to another person's, we get scared, too. "The idea of getting married completely freaked me out at first," says my friend Lisa, 34. "I know this sounds like a guy cliche, but I saw it as giving up my independence and being tied down." The good news is, once we're hitched, we're generally pretty delighted about it. Says Lisa, "Now that I am married, having a life commitment is so comforting and wonderful. I love knowing that we are a team and that we're going to be on the same team forever."

4. We may be modern and independent, but we still want you to be "the man."
We do want you to be sensitive, caring 21st-century males, but even the most ass-kicking, take-no-prisoners woman still wants to feel taken care of by her man somehow. Whether that means you take charge in bed, know how to fix the car and kill spiders, or even just carry the big suitcase when we're on vacation--when you act all manly, even if you're 98 pounds soaking wet, it makes us feel more feminine, more safe.

"I love that my friends and family always comment on how my husband opens the door for me and does all kinds of other chivalrous things--especially when I was pregnant, when he was so protective of me and my belly," says Lorraine, 29, of New Hartford, NY. "At the end of the day, being in his strong arms is definitely a good feeling, no matter how independent I know I am."


5. Our ex-boyfriends were not completely terrible in bed.
You know how we're always telling you things like, "Oh yeah, you're definitely the biggest I've ever had" or "No one does it like you do"? Um, yeah. Well, we may have been stretching the truth just a teensy bit. But we'll never actually tell you that a past lover was a bedroom dynamo--we're smarter than that. Just know that whatever toe-curling orgasms the other guy gave us, sex with you really is a million times better--because it's you, and you're the one we really want.

6. We're scared that we'll turn into our mothers.
We love our mothers, really. We admire them, we're grateful to them, we think they're the most amazing women on the planet. We just don't want to be them. That's why one of the worst insults you can hurl at a woman is, "You're acting just like your mother."

But here's one that's even worse: "You're acting just like my mother." It sends a horrible oedipal shiver down our spines--did he marry me because I'm like his mom? Will he start expecting me to cut the crusts off his PB&J? So please, if you value your sex life, never ever compare your wife to your mother. Out loud, anyway.

7. We want you to be jealous--but just a little bit.
We want you to notice--and care!--when the waiter flirts with us, or when other guys check us out on the street. It makes us feel that we matter to you. But please don't get all Neanderthal and possessive on us. "I'm very loyal, and if my guy can't understand that I would never do anything with anyone else, then that just makes me mad," says Paulina, 22, from Brooklyn. So, to recap: Raising your eyebrows when we introduce you to our cute coworker--good. Punching him out--very, very bad.

8. Yes, we fantasize about hot celebrity guys, but that doesn't mean we want you to be them.Christian Bale is sexy and all, but can you imagine having to clean that Batcave?

9. We tell our girlfriends more than we admit to you (but less than you fear).
Yes, we tell them about the latest marital spat, complain about our mothers-in-law, and sigh over the hobby that sucks up all your free time. But we don't tell them how big your you-know-what is or that you cried in our arms when your dad died. Some things are just too important and intimate to share. "I definitely don't tell my girlfriends details like what my husband said when he proposed, the feeling I have every time I see him look at our daughter, and the little wonderful things he does for me every day," says Lorraine. "Those are just for me."

10. We really do notice and appreciate all the chores you do.
Why don't we say so often enough? Because we can't get over all the things you don't do. My husband, for example, is incredibly diligent about keeping a 6-by-10-foot carpeted patch of our apartment vacuumed and cat hair-free, and I love that. But it kills me that it never occurs to him to dust the furniture sitting on top of that piece of carpet, or to sweep the hardwood floor adjoining it.

Blame our lack of positive feedback on that stubborn female belief that there is Only One Right Way to do any given household task--our way. It's probably the real reason why men don't shoulder a greater share of housekeeping duties; we complain about how you did it wrong, so you never want to do it again. (Sounds familiar, right?) Let's make a deal: You promise to dust the lampshade (or wipe down the kitchen counter after you wash the dishes, or take out the garbage and then put a new liner in the can) once in a while, and we promise to sing your praises. Agreed?

11.We love you with all our hearts, but we still get wistful about the fact that we'll never feel that falling-in-love sizzle and spark again.
I'll just come right out and say it: Most women are love addicts. And while we appreciate the depth and richness of long-time love, there is simply nothing like the giddy, fluttery, crazy feeling we get (or rather, used to get) with a brand-new guy. We know we'll never feel that high again, and there's a little part of us that will always miss it. (Why do you think we watch so many romantic comedies?) But in the end, what we get instead--you, and a lifetime of true devotion--is more than worth the price.

there you go. definitions.

"a misandrist hates persons of the male sex, a misogynist hates persons of the female sex, and a misanthrope is a hater of mankind."

a rose by any other name...

what if i were to call myself 'rose' one of these days, while wearing some pouffy thing with lacey sleeves?

with my current arched and thin seductive eyebrows and bob, i could've easily introduced myself as 'mary. rose. mary,' while i try not to die of swallowed laughter as i struggle not to add 'and you may kiss my hand'. >XD

i mean, ye gods! it'd be so wayang! and go around with the smouldering look in my suitably mascara-ed eyes and slight pout and batting my eyelids at people coyly when they talk to me - wah piang. that's going to be a killer.

geez. the weird things i think up. -laugh-

and he returns

yep.

friend who's overseas has returned to singaporean lands.



hum. i was k-ing tonight and i realised, as if i knew this fact all along, that i wanted a man who's got angular features, a nice smile and a nice build. you know, nice muscular arms and the swoonsome grin. look at andy hui and wang li hong and you get the picture.

yes, tall dark handsome men. no pansies for me. no pretty-boy/metrosexual chaps.

sorry but beckham doesn't cut it no more. MANLY MEN! RAWR!

bodily observations 2

and the conversation went like this...


jenn says: has anyone wondered why we have hair?

me: to keep the head warm lah. greatest loss of heat there what

jenn: really?

me: mmhm

jenn: if tts the case

me: eyebrows to keep water off eyes

jenn: then why was there evolution such tt ppl grow bald too?

me: ..and hair down there to keep pheromones - eh?

me: well. i suspect it's something got to do with the thickening of the skull.....

me (as afterthought): more inherent in men, i noticed.

reality check

the world is full of amazing things. they're blown all over the media: papers, tv, radio. shirts, shipping bags, on the sides of lorries, mobile phone screens. and i wonder: how much of it do you believe, and howmuch of it do you notice?

do you believe the news? do you hear it or do you listen to it?

do you believe advertisements? do you understand how the creatives came by the underlying reasoning to manifest into the piece you see say, on the streets, at the bus station, the departmental stores? or do you merely see the direct message that they advocate?


but what i am trying to ask is merely: how much gets to you when you read, when you see?


does reading evoke certain feelings in you, or have you become somewhat like me, slightly jaded, a little world-weary (yes, already!) and do you notice that the news in newpaper tend to be more tragic than that of the straits times (imho anyway) but you're hardly bothered anymore because it must be 'sensationalised news'?

and what if it weren't news? what if it were a letter from a family member, saying hello and giving you an update on how the baby girl is; or an email from a friend complete with pictures, of her trip to brazil?

you would believe that and you would take time to read and appreciate that for they're 'real'. how many links would you accept in the chain of events before you say that it's not good anymore?

how much do you believe in those words you read?

...i know i'm a naive person. i tend to believe bydefault. i think the world is prettier when it's a little blurred around the edges and i've never understood why some prefer to see each and every grain of colour when a picture is presented to them.

is it another way of seeing 'the blurry world'? or is it just being myopic?


hmmm.

and how much gets to you, how much do you see?

the dreaming.

"nobody knows when they might wake up"

some words i heard sung from a song. and it made perfect sense. truly, what if we were merely sleeping, and 'death' were e last part of the dream that we will wake from?

and suppose everyone is a part of your dreaming, who you are is what you made yourself out to be. and maybe like how some powerful people dream about being dominated, you are now working for someone else, instead of being at the top. and maybe, just maybe, you're really someone at THE top, and this is soem weird dream, in which you are not yourself and are working in the company that you own, only you don't know that.

and you'r busy climbing this corporate vine so you can afford to not step on others. and maybe, when you wake, you will remember these stories, these "people" you'd dreamt, the stories you'd read, the paths you'd taken and the conversations you had.

and you are simply dreaming all of this, and in your dream, everyone wakes up by havign the ultimate nightmare of dying.

..maybe.

oh, look.

http://www.icq.com/friendship/pages/browse_page_18964.php

something i found that cheered me up.

i want to like you for you.

i had stopped by to visit my mother this afternoon, and we were bantering as usual when she mentioned that she's got more business coming from my aunt's place - and since my aunt lives in the better part of town it means that the customer she gets is actually quite well-to-do.

and when she mentioned that the other family is worth even more than my aunt's family i felt this cold rock at the bottom of my stomach...

will i ever get there? at that point i really didn't want to continue the conversation.


..not that "there" is an important place to be or that i MUST get there but rather, will i ever have a chance to live in the kind of "opulence" - not needing to care whether or not i have to return that book i rented, where to go for that meal of da zha xie (fried crabs), and WHEN i may go for that meal of da zha xie, whether i have the necessary to not bother where i'm headed or when and that all i have to think about is what i want to do and when.

and i look at the people about me. my colleagues seem happy. not that i am not - i am. i am blessed in every way possible - or "lucky", if you don't believe in an Almighty - to have the education, the accommodation, the smarts to make it through to a good school and then to getting some skills behind me, jobs, a place of my own, great friends who will help me out, who i will help out and who i love -


i am blessed. triply blessed. because. because of the above-mentioned reasons and then some.

but when i look at the people about me, and when i look. i see people struggling with work, with deadlines, with stress: the same things i struggle with.

but then comes lunch time and people start talking about the places they're headed to for drinks, who's got them invites and how "her dad said 'money's not yours until you spend it' and how he bought ANOTHER television set (or something)" and how she's got cars back in wherever she came from. and my friends, they've got lovely homes with wonderful parents who seem to know just what advice to give. it helps that they're beautiful too.

and all i can do is to try to keep up, you know?


and the people i know. the people i get to know. if i like them i really don't want to know more about them. i only want to know their names, their contact numbers if we happen to exchange numbers but even then. i just want to know their names, and that be it.

for to know more would mean i will have preconceived notions about you. just like if i were to know that you're well-to-do or even better than "just" well-to-do. i don't want to know that you live in a penthouse and own two shophouses in emerald hill plus a pub down the road AND seven cars, all lamborghinis of different colours to suit different outfits. i don't, i really don't.

it scares me, i feel like i'm not worthy, because i simply do not have the things you have. i have not seen the things you have, and probably have not done the things you did. like owning more than forty-six pairs of shoes. it's ridiculous, i don't need forty-six pairs of shoes and unless you're aspiring to be a millipede chances are you won't, neither. but you get what i mean?


i know i'm cool. i know i'm beautiful. i know i don't have to be worth a thing but still be priceless. i know that. YOU know that.

and i don't want to know who you are. i was curious about someone who impressed me. and i asked.

what a mistake. the more impressed i was, the dumber i got. the dumber i got the more ingratiating i became.

me. lapdog. ME.



..and i must not be like that. and i don't want to know who you are, whether or not i have met you, will meet you. i don't want to know who you are. i want to know you as you, ilke you for you, as you are; not what you have, where you'd been, who you'd seen. i can offer you the friendship and camaraderie that you may have found so lacking in the world, that spark of genuine-ness.

but i must not know who you are. i don't want to know who you are.

poptart

poptart.

pop. tart. popular tart.


hmm.

bodily observations 1

through the days of aimlessly milling about places during rush-hour cheong-to-office-time and lunchtime, i can't help but notice these oddities and/or differences in the human body: -

if women can sit up ramrod straight and so can men, when women do not have any - obstacles, if you will - to speak of, does it mean them said obstacles are positioned slightly forward?

...so is that where the extra folds of skin come in?


and if everyone were biologically a woman to start with does it therefore mean we actually come with under-developed penii? and then there's the womb. if we have the womb and men don't, is that why they can eat loads more food than we can, and is that why they tend to have easier times in the bathroom and seem to have more resistance to irritable bowel syndrome (it afflicts MANY more women than it does men)?


...is that also why men sport pot-bellies after their tummy elasticity wears out?



hmm.

urban famine

yes, one of the three riders has got a new face.

it's called fashion, in all of its metallic eyeshadow-ed glory. skinny girls having waists smaller than a wasp's and yet still manage to have curves. feh. modern-day stuffings. put it on during the day and take it off at night. easy-peasy. can wash some more.

then there's powder, make-up; the 'glamour' that seems to come with it.

thank heavens su isn't that stick-insecty and she doesn't have to slap on too much powder to look good. i may look like a grasshopper but i've always been the skinny kambing.

but hey, i love my food. i just don't happen to like eating when i'm not hungry. and therein lies another facet of urban famine: living standards. it's called 'lifestyle' these days. the tendency to pay for one good meal versus many run-of-the-mill meals now is higher than the tendency to pay for one good meal versus many run-of-the-mill meals back then.

and the want to 'live the better life' is there and so you live the life of a well-to-do for a week then for the rest of the month you're drying up like a limpet stuck too high on the pier. but either way, i suppose now that a large percentage of the world population is well-to-do enough to be able to afford fat-laden burgers - famine must've appealed to vanity.


...and succeeded, no less. with brilliant gay designers/stylists around, who, more often than not tend to be male and therefore have nonexistent hips - man. that just makes being a woman hard. not to mention the glamourous transvestites about: they make a woman want to crawl into the nearest manhole and take up residence there.

they are more 'woman' than a woman. it's amazing.


eh girls we lose to the 'women' leh. and we're the real women. how do they out-bitch us, out hiao us, and out-glam us?


-shake head-

insomnia

insomnia. i don't have that problem.

but oddly enough, i am sleeping at 2 am these few days. hum. things kept me up
like chatting online. hair-cutting.

you know? it's not like i'm lying in bed, staring at the back of my eyelids wondering what that splotch is going to evolve into. but i sleep late like everyone else.

i wonder why how i survive.


heh.

the mirror

as i looked into the mirror this evening, with a cigarette in hand, the possibility of me being one of those ciggie-toting ah lian aunties flashed across my mind.

didn't help that i had my overgrown hair tied up in a ponytail, with wisps of fringe trailing down the side of my face. it was late, i just got home from the office - i don't usually smoke but tonight i had managed to uncover my superbly stale ciggies from some obscure corner of my vanity and smoked it while chancing upon my humongous mirror.

hm. not pleasant.

now i understand why older women feel insecure about younger, more supple ones.


...do i really have to go through this phase in life?

words to listen to

words to listen to, to fall asleep with, but not words to believe in.

someone told me, just recently, that he'll 'make me a tai-tai'. i melted inside. how do i not smile at that statement, made so simply, meant as simply?

..but this sweetness came from this innocent boy, who, in his seeming naivete, hurt me when i thought i could trust him. and trust him i did - bad mistake.

i.. don't blame him. maybe he was just learning. about people, about life, you know? but why has it got to be me? is it so hard to find a person who you can rely on, trust without having to fear being betrayed?


and another said, 'i'll never forget you'.

...so you didn't. true that i left you. but so what? i'm sorry.

not sorry for you; sorry for us. all three of us and everyone else in between. i'm not ready. i'm... very happy to hear these words from you, i do. but i'm just not sure if i can trust these words. i'm sorry to have to say that.

if i could cry i will, but i suppose i've hardened into a husk, like a coconut, where the waters are locked inside. and even that, will later dry.

but ah, enough about me. what about you?

what do you see it this, eh?


what made you say these? inebriation? late nights that lower the guard?

love me. but love me discreetly.

weird

i was just looking through a siteful of weird news - and found 'odd' events ranging from 'pigs withstanding taser to avoid slaughter' and 'heart attack over ugly toupee' - even 'goat turns into brother's corpse'.

and i was wondering - why's that weird?

the pig's scared of death, as is every natural living thing, it's easy to have a heart attack when you're worked up and it's easy to understand how that kind of statements are made when people believe in black magic (nigeria). is it very hard to understand, really?

why is it weird when it's uncommon? does it mean if you cannot understand it you therefore should label it as 'weird'?

uncommon, yes. but weird - hmm.


think about it.

about poverty

yes. i'm poor.

because i tried to live the better life, tried to do so before i could afford it. the feeling of seeing tasty-looking bread on the glass shelves of bakeries down town and having to continually swallow - is not pleasant indeed.

but how could i have refused that chance, finally, when it presented itself to me? i wouldn't have said no even if i could. no. i'm happy with my choice. but the down side is that i will have to go through famine.

i'd considered borrowing some, but that'd be stupid. if i made that choice i have to bloody live with it.

alright. i can do this. i'm not used to but i can. time to learn how to cook and not poison myself in the process.


..i can. if not then there's always po chai. >:x

influence

influence. what is influence?

...it's the number of and/or kind of people who will take your word for it if you do give your reviews about someone or something or some place. and the more people who will listen to your views (i.e.: take it seriously and base their actions and/or judgements on that), the more influential you are.

and that comes from knowing the right people at the right places. all these add to your value. and of course, you should have some substance to back it all up most of the time. i say "most of the time" because sometimes, it's just easy when you have a sort of a charm and know enough people but say, don't know nothing about mathematics. or computers. you know?

but you know people who do. and that's when you put two and three together and get six. the extra one point from yourself, because you know how to get people together and create a team. and that in itself is the so-called "substance" that i'm talking about as well.

but i digress.


so influence: it does not matter if you know loads of people who are int he working class (for example) but what does is that they hold you in good regard. doesn't ahve to be "high" regard, "good" regard will do. and truly? when you're in that kind of position, it's hard not to get noticed. by the commonfolk, like me, by the "better ones".

and assuming you don't suddenly turn into a bumbling fool, chacnes are you'll get to be one of the "better ones" one day.


...and there's no need to fear that you aren't influential NOW. because it's something that will grow.

phantom skin

have you ever felt an itch on your chin when you chin's under local anesthesia?

had a toothache a couple days ago and had to go to the dentist. after the chap gave me a jab with a metal canistered thing in the mouth i couldn't feel my left chin and lip for about four hours after.

and it's weird, during that time, how i managed to get an itch and "feel" it, and scratched it and it "felt" good, relieved. don't ask me how, please. its' a certain contentment that my skin felt, like it's happy when i scratched on that spot. and funnily enough i seemed to be able to locate that spot and when i scratched it, all i consciously felt was pressure but there was this inkling of pleasure when i did.

weird, huh.

well, should you have the chance in the future to be under some numbing, you should try getting a serendipitous itch over there.

and then you may get what i mean. :P

realisation

it is with a little surprise that i realise i have grown a little pompous in my scribing.

i must tune it down.

online appeal

i don't quite understand why girls take half-naked pictures of themselves and post them all online. and the angles that you don't normally show people - weird that those are shown. it's all those cute shots and/or sexual ones.

what is THAT all about?


if it's cute i understand. but somehow, they look like they're trying to get people to bid for them. and if that's the objective just why on earth are they giving out free samplers like that? it would make sense to make people pay, no? take pictures of self in underwear adn post online to up the 'friends' quota? hello?

little wonder how the world's coming to an end... there's no need for tsunamis or plagues - sheer human stupidity will work. it's really ben si.


then there are the boys who want to look like anime characters with only one eye. i mean, dye your hair ash brown by all means but good heavens when your pictures are done so your face only shows ONE eye - that's freaky. and they think it's cute.

i mean, i'm not exagerrating here: the kid actually put four of his pictures together, ran it through some funky filters in photoshop and typed in "Cutie [name here] ^O^" - that's just impossible to overlook lah.

girls who want to look japanese are also guilty of this. if you're trying to do things like that, my advice is: don't. it takes a certain kind of face to pull off the hamster look.



i don't understand this. if you're a jap girl wannabe, then i suppose you would.

and sometimes

and sometimes i think - why do people ask me out to a function with them, specifically to hang off their arm when they should be asking their other halves? i mean, i don't want no catfights on my hands, and especially not if it will make it look like we're fighting OVER him.

no way. i don't fight over men. especially not if he's using me as gold dust to make himself look better. bah. please! appearances are appearances are appearances. how much's it worth to you, eh, darren?

thankfully, unlike you, i got nothing to prove.


apologies to su though, this is that event i had told her about - and i had no idea that the ass's got an other half when he asked if i'd head to that event with him!


there are just too insensitive men about. lustful ones, bastards, clueless ones, and those who are just too shrewd for anyone's own good, you know? just amazing.

the chat with the man who knows everything.

oh lord. it's this fluttery feeling again. butterflies in my stomach; the kind that makes me want to shriek out loud and break something.

..i'd just had a chat with the most charming man in the office - and ye gods, AM i CHARMED!

and the conversation left me feeling like - that in my scant 23 years i had not collected enough knowledge to carry out a conversation with a man of 42 years of age.

it seems that he knows everything. from religion (he quoted verses from the bible) to diving (spouted technical terms) and anything that i could throw at him, not to mention that we argued the philosophy of happiness, the meanings of it enjoyment and what makes a life 'idyllic' and whether or not it can be idyllic NOW - and hwo it can be acheived simply by seeing past prices and materials and appreciating the things that are already there.

yes, even in the old kopitiam chair that your family's had for the past five decades.


all of this, within an hour and a half of a first sit-down-and-chat. it's quite amazing how a chap that age can be flirtatious and so charming. is there any question that i like older men???

he is beautiful: mentally and physically. and he's aged like good leather (please ah, don't crack any cute jokes about implications about his skin and suchlike - every part of him is very well-kept. or the parts that i can see, at least) and he wears it like a glittering mantle.

trust me, it's simply impossible to look at him and not notice that square jaw, that oh-so-cute tan, those (oh good heavens) broad shoulders and muscles that show even under his clothes - the lean kind, mind - that ready smile and the combined flow of intellect and charm set to 'stun' -

and the fact that he's at the upper tier of an upmarket magazine only adds to the sheen of glamour. how could i have resisted? oh no, i would not have been able to even if i tried. how to, you tell me, how to???


...but coming back to earth after a full four minute's worth of coming apart at the head: like all beautiful things, there has to be a flaw. and this one, it seems, it quite fatal.

he's gay.



AUGH SWEET MOTHER OF GOD!!!

why all lie dat one?!

my love for a cup of milk

today, i had found out that a dear friend of mine has had a budget of yay dollars for an entire term. and that, when translated, equated to something very much worse than my own.

and that made me think of another time almost a month and a half ago when she bought me my cup of milk when we were out then, probably because she wanted to 'help me out'. not that the milk came with a shot of caramel AND gold flakes, but that was enough for her to have my love.

understand that she already has it (my love), but the gesture was so sweet that i felt the warm fuzzy feeling rise to the fore.


it's easy, i suppose, when you know you want to care for someone and when that someone suddenly cares for you - words fail you.

...i know it failed me. :)

wtf!

http://sinfest.net/comikaze/comics/2006-08-28.gif

pop-pop-pop culture

i had always been the unpopular kid - preschool, during school. and while it got lonesome sometimes, it was mostly amusing.

why, you may ask. and you may well wonder if i'm a little unhinged, especially when popularity can be quite the purpose of existence when everyone else has a clique and seem to be hanging out together and is always laughing. happy, you know?

and i was there, watching it all, thoughtful look on my face, sometimes grinning at the scene(s). and people often wondered why, especially when i'm nursing an unglam plastic cup of something, seated by myself facing no one in particular.

i was the ultimate loner. loser? hardly. but neither was i the winner. but one thing was clear to them - i was WEIRD - or so they thought and possibly still do - think. i didn't blame them though, still don't; for i even had the 'artist' persona down pat (i had been in every art class and artistic activity since primary 3)- it's hard not to think i'm one of those accidents people like to call artists.

they probably don't know this but i derived great pleasure in watching them interact; the ways they play nice, the times when they complain/bitch about something that usually involves a commonly-disliked someone else. it's like they needed a target to focus their sense of purpose on.

not to mention how i laughed, afterwards, when i doggedly followed a bunch of the older cool kids wherever they went when i was in primary 4 once. to be seen with me was to be 'uncool' and that meant that i had the same social effect as poison to your body. imagine how much distress i had caused these hapless people! -laugh-

i can still remember the warnings to 'not to follow' them and the worried looks when i saunter in their general direction!

and for a while, i enjoyed my little game. then i got interested in badminton and went on to be the school's best player - and that's when i had a little trouble getting people to stop hanging about ME (namely the younger kids). it helped that i was liberal with my threats and carrying them out, though. and so things changed: the same groups of people who thought i was somewhat of a cling-on suddenly found my rare 'visits' absolutely charming. heh. and i laughed some more.


and it's certainly amazing, to find that the very same high-school terminologies, manners of expression and dynamics are still being used today by those people who are already out of it for like, you know, at least, like, five years. yeeeah. i mean, it's, you know, like, so (italicise) weird (/italics), you know?

now it still makes me laugh but mostly it irritates me. the talk about mango having sales and 'how many percent' and the pair of shoes that are sooooo cute when paired with this bracelet - gods. if you have any sense of colour (ie: not colour blind) chances are you would know how to coordinate your clothes. and so what if you fly in the teeth of fashion? if you carry it well then you're the one riding the crest of the wave, no? then YOU're fashion.

or does nobody about me understand that?


i hope the idea to 'be a diamond, not glass' is as famous as aesop's fables. why? because diamonds have less to prove and as everybody knows, too much glitter spells 'c-h-r-i-s-t-m-a-s t-r-e-e'.

not that i'm not guilty of being 'glass' at times. of course i have made my overtly stupid moves to say that 'hey i'm cool too'. alas, i need a little bit more time to be a self-assured diamond, but i'm slowly getting there. note though, that being a diamond does not equal to not being open to people trying to tell you that there is something majorly wrong with you.

of course, if it's someone telling you that you have 'an accent' when you're merely being your good charming self AND the said kind-hearted (if self-blinded, if you will) person has 'an accent' herself - then the diamond will know that it is graceful to not laugh in that person's face. but of course, i wish now that i were quite the glass when THAT happened to me. :P

but anyways. now that i'm out in the working world, it seems that the popularity thing is still ongoing. i don't understand it, but i see the benefits of knowing how to work it. hmm.

and it's life, ya?


..oh, by the way, if you're wondering why i never did get pummelled when i was dogging others when in primary school: i had always been a good runner. and when i didn't run: the pursuers quickly realised that i have a sharp stinging slap.

and nope, they never did have the guts to gang up on me.

war vs life

i had been reading this story about ffx - how auron and rikku fought their - mortality - and had managed to frolic during their pilgrimage.

and things while hard was 'alright', because they had each other and the hardships stuck them together. which in turn made me think about the urbane side of things - why we have this many divorces today is simply because it's hardly 'you and me against the world' but rather i'm fighting the world AND you.

i would merrily give my love and gentleness (assuming i am capable of that, of course) to the man who's braving clawing monsters and suchlike outside of my cave to bring back bacon and such - or even rebel against my family to follow a man who's in love with me (whom i adore as well. duh) but whom my clan hates.

of course, bombs and roaming monsters help, too. that is, of course, assuming he's entirely capable of defending himself and us against the said monsters.


truly 'you and me against the whole damn world', capisce?

but tough to acheive in this urban universe, it seems. staying together's easy when both make the effort. but staying together when Life is in the way - well.

suddenly nobody's as sweet as they should be anymore, eh? the sweet girl with dulcet tones has become the virago who has unkemp hair and dowdy clothes and the gentlemanly young chap has turned into the paunchy ole man who addresses you by 'oei'.

sigh...


romance dies when peacetime comes.

ain't it grand.

it's sooooo highschool!

a: helloy! how're yoy? ooh yoy got those earrings, do yoy have a date tonight?

b: good day! well no, not really, some of my friends are coming and i'm picking them up at the airport... i got these earrings at [location deleted to preserve privacy], and they're like, four bucks a pair? the others were like, you know, pearly, and there's one that has got pink stuff on it. they're sooo cuuute!

a: oh wow, only two bucks?

b: yeah... oh by the way, c is going back to [said location that's been deleted to preserve privacy] soon, do you need anything from there?

a: hmmm noy, not at the moment. i'll think about it (or something to the like. i can't quite recall).

b: well yeah... clothes back there fit better! the stuff they sell here are sooo weird; they fit kinda funny.

a: (nods with a smile but says nothing)

b: well i'm probably going ask c if she can, though i'll probably wait till she gets my package. it'd be so cool! (laughs)


----


man... if that's not high school i don't know what is. isn't it time to break out of the high school cheerleader act already?

death by cuteness

try this: http://mfrost.typepad.com/cute_overload/unusual_animals/index.html

check out the racoon vid. so cute~~~~

sick and rashed

i had gone to see the doctor, it burnt a hole in my wallet.

then i headed to my mum's with my burnt wallet to let it rest and recuperate. and oh, my good self, too. :D

then my mum dearest decided that she must take the heat out of my body and therefore mixed some dubious concoction that consisted of some powdered bright blue crystal and white crystal - AND vinegar. and using some pulped vegetation wrapped in cloth, she dabbed - nay, RUBBED it onto my neck, chest and back area.

ow. the taking it off with rice wine part wasn't too bad though.


now i am super aware whenever i sweat, even a little. because it feels like i were pricked by many, many little needles. eating is a pain (who doesn't sweat when eating?) and sleeping is trying (doesn't help that i wasn't supposed to turn the damn fan on and the windows have to STAY closed).


argh.

but well. it's born of a love she has for me... never mind that i will never again appreciate the ideas for TCM she's got for me, especially not if it involves crystals (the first was when she decided to rid me of the mole i have on my face - yes the part that's now a crater).

truth is...

truth is the worst is not as bad as it sounds.

truth is the misunderstanding does not require your clearing up.

truth is the person you love and think does not love you in return thinks the same way about you.

truth is the idea of 'sticking by it' and 'through thick and thin' only happens when you perceive it to.



..truth is, it all doesn't quite matter.

woi

i just realised. the world doesn't just consist of me.

jasmine! are you alright?


hadn't heard squeak from you. i'm starting to worry.

misunderstood

woh-oh-oh yeah

that be me. felt rather crappy about it.


but that was just now. i'm feeling sleepy, now.

a funny dream

i woke too late as usual, the bbc was on the radio in the background - and i had a funny dream.

it was nice and sweet, in an evil sort of way.

i dreamt that i was working at some place as an admin sorta person or something to the like for i had to deal with loads of paper adn such... and funnily enough my boss is my adversary, someone set out to ruin me. and it seems that i am rather unwillingly famous, that the chap was dying to find out every single thing about me to drive me to destruction (ahem. other times i'd be flattered but in the dream i was suitably unaware).

enter short fart, who's charming and funny and ah beng to boot. he's been looking out for me and been sweet to bring bring me blankets and food if i remember my dream correctly - and we spent happy time together, laughing. and that's just in a friendly kinda way, you know?

so when things turn crappy (boss got the necessary dirt on me and was planning to start the deadly spreading of rumours - i don't know how this works but apparently it will kill me) - the said short fart told me to stay well and be good, last-word like .

and, with an ice-pick like thing in hand, inserted it into the boss's head.... and the boss doesn't die.

the chap didn't even see short fart head up to beside him, insert that thing, walk back out. neither did the girl he was speaking with. something was wrong. that sweet short fart isn't whom he seemed to be. and as it turns out, he's from 'another place' - and i had forgotten to ask what that insertion of the needle would do.

so soon after that incident he's got to return. he's got a friend with him, one i seemed to recognise but didn't. they had to wait for dusk, which happened rather promptly also, considering it was 2 o'clock in dreamtime - and when it happened, i was biting my knuckles trying not to cry and when the portal (for lack of a better word) opened - it was the size of a blackhole - he hopped right in, back facing the blackhole and facing me, insouciant grin on face complete with an easy wave, bidding goodbye.

that's when he started becoming a demon..........

moodswung

met two of my girlfriends today - it's a pleasure seeing them, as always, but i got moodswung halfway.

sucks. sorry babes, if i made you both uncomfortable. :( the lack of a voice to be chatty forestalled considerations and/or attempts at easing the conversation.


let's start over, next week. my voice would have returned by then.

oops i did it again

ho gods. it seems that when i'm not sending signals i'm sending signals.

i've just had some chap at work say that i'm like a lil sister to him, 'don't know why he wants to take care of me' - and the likes. it's almost like he's trying to tell me that 'i'm not his type' without saying it.

wah. irritating and embarrassing at the same time, no?


amazing.

doctor, doctor!

good grief. pierce chow.

gastro doctor in SGH. this is one doctor lacks bedside manners. went for our appointment set at 11am and had to wait in line till noon to be told what we already had been told before: scan needed.

i mean, hello? we have too much time issit? must go aaaaall the way to SGH take a number jostle with the screwy crowd so we can pop into your little room to hear what we've heard before?

kao.

pierce chow. gastro doc in SGH. remember him.

hot pot

went to jenn's this sunday, to have hot pot.

and by golly it felt like home. jenn's mum and dad were so unflappably friendly and warm that it's hard not to feel like part of the family! and wow the food - the SOUP - yummm

food was good, company was easy... the starting was a bit shy but we got along pretty well once we got used to each other. it helps that dave was about, too. haha! he's got a pretty good sense of humour!

thanks babe, it was lovely. one of the precious things that makes me feel wonderful to be alive.


love you. :)

something terrible happened today.

it was worse than when my hamster died. the atmosphere as wrong. i knew it. i had an inkling that it might happen and could have taken the steps to prevent the tragedy from happening but i had trusted in what others called 'faith' and -




MY LANDLADY TOOK MY STRUDEL!!!!


MY LANDLADY TOOK MY STRUDEL!!!! can you believe it?!! SHE TOOK MY STRUDEL!!!!!!!

i KNEW something hideously wrong has happened the moment i opened the fridge! AW sweet angels and the universe above! why did i WAIT to eat the strudel?!

good lord, i had WAITED to eat that one, looked forward to it, merrily skipping back home (not an easy thing in 4-inch heels) after not thinking about it for an entire DAY at that god-forsaken cemented dungeon of a workplace to come back home to NO-STRUDEL?!!?!?

the injustice! AUGH!


and this is the second time. the first one was my favourite chocolate tarts from fricken katong. a gift from a friend, bought by the boxful. also another belonging to the yum-yum category.

nabeh! i, like the villain waiting for meester bong to die, trusting - too much - in life and the impossibilities of other people. most people took one chance to get to once bitten twice shy - it seems that it's taken me more than one bite. of my tarts and pastries, no less!


...i'm deeply sorry to say i can't help the dejection i feel at this moment. no strudel. monday blues in the morning and now the blue's turning a brilliant shade of purple. oh, if emails could cry!

-sob-

...if emails could cry this one'd have pounded on the other side of your screen and shrieked blue murder to avenge my wrongfully eaten pastries.

prayer and praise

wow.

back to church. sang. met jenn, met a cutie cellmate, all's good.

went to prayer and praise fest, real good. had to cabut from another 2 meet-ups though. through the prayer and praise i was able to let go of 'man'; to not put too much emphasis on them adn focus.

yes, focus.

the vivo.

i think vivo city has been designed with intelligent hamsters in mind...

lightbulbs and potatoes

contrary to the title, this one doesn't have anything to do with potatoes. not literally anyway.



people are like lightbulbs.

when they first get into the working world, they do their best to shine. like a new lightbulb.

they work hard, they put forth a strong presence in their field, like new lightbulbs that you freshly pop into the lamp to replace that one that blew. and as those who have changed their own lightbulbs would have noticed, the new lightbulb often 'doesn't feel the same' though you undoubtedly understand the desire and/or need for a new one, and that 'the new one' isn't 'the old one'.

that applies to lovers and spouses as well as people within the workplace, no?


and unless you have one of those electrical mojo gadgets that control the brightness (i believe they're called radiance regulators?) - chances are the light's going to be too bright, too harsh, too 'white', too - you get the idea - and while it is 'like the other one that left you groping in the dark' it is 'not the same'. you, regrettably, prefer (or shoudl i say 'miss' - should it be possible to actually miss a blown lightbulb? heh) the one that gave on you all the while understanding that it won't be the same. you'd endured through that one's first stark efficacy and as time went by, it not just did its job of illuminating the words of your nighttime read but mellowed and provided you with a seasoned glow that you grew comfortable with and had accompanied you through many an adventure in a book you're using as a bedtime read.


...but when a bulb's blown a bulb's blown - you have to get a replacement or you'd be stumbling in your daily (nightly) trials.

and the office tube giving on you and blinking incessantly trying to give you what it used to or remembering the bulb in your bedside lamp has died only after you'd flicked the switch on is something anyone can relate to.


- isn't that terribly like people too?

when someone joins the company, he tries his best to shine, to make his presence known and felt. that chap may be too cheerful, too hardworking, too efficient - an eager beaver. a new bulb. efficient, but irritating.

but as time goes by, the new bulb settles in to the flow of things and instead of casting harsh shadows it becomes "warm" and "forgiving" though at the same time still glows enough to allow you to see the faults/details of the surroundings should you WANT to examine the plaster on the wall.

and when the bulb's at that stage you enjoy it; its presence, its function. you will continue to enjoy that for a while, too. until of course, something happens and that bulb goes.

sometimes it's not the bulb, but a case of decayed wire (don't ask me how that happens - it does. but don't ask me how) and can be fixed. other times, something in the bulb's broken though it still tries to give you its support (them blinking office lights) but acheiving possibly nothing more than supreme irritation - and it makes better sense for you to get a new one.

or make do without one, let the nearby florescent chip in with their radiance until you get around to getting a replacement. if it's not crucial that you have that lightbulb up and lighting, of course.


..and isn't that similar to people?


amazing what the mind turns up in the middle of the night, eh.

this day

this very day i fell in love - was so discomfited i fell right out again.

i so, so hate this feeling.

reminds of me of the song that goes - i guess you sunk in/ oh yeah you made it in/now i'm fumblin' somewhere deep within/

gawds. hate this one! cute guy but MAN! HATE IT!

hetero- and homo-

heh.

and it's you...

good hahas

http://xkcd.com/comics/katamari.jpg

i dare not think...

no. i dare not think.

i dare not think that i'm in love.


...naaaaaaah.

(got you concerned there didn't i? :D)

the perfect man

found this off the net. haha

...The perfect man is gentle Never cruel or mean He has a beautiful smile And keeps his face so clean. The perfect man likes children And will raise them by your side He will be a good father As well as a good husband to his bride. The perfect man loves cooking Cleaning and vacuuming too He'll do anything in his power To convey his feelings of love on you. The perfect man is sweet Writing poetry from your name He's a best friend to your mother And kisses away your pain. He never has made you cry Or hurt you in any way Oh, screw this stupid poem The perfect man is GAY.

wa.

checked this out, just for fun, at

Your Psyche or Nature Number is - 8

You are very sincere to others and give up everything for the sake of society and family. You always think ahead of time and possess a sharp instinct. You have a strong will power and individuality. You usually hide your feelings and allow people to think what they like. You may either be a great success in life or a great failure. Even though other people oppose you, you continue to do the work and hence succeed in making a lot of enemies. You have a very good memory and never forget your resentment against anyone. You are regularly misunderstood in your life by others. For this reason, you usually feel extremely lonely at heart. You are always commanding. You may undergo many ups and downs in your life, but you will prosper and be successful in the later part of your life. If you lead a simple and religious life, you are bound to rise to high positions in life. The birth of a daughter in your house will prove to be very lucky for you. You are inclined towards the sufferings of the people. Your work may not be noticed during your lifetime but it will be remembered and recognised after your death. You generally aim for public life or government responsibility of some kind. You will want to go deep into the mysteries of the nature. Events will take place in a fast pace in your life. In the later part of your life, you may prefer to lead a lonely life due to your previous experience of marital life. Health wise, you should be careful about certain ailments in your old age. You may suffer from problems related to liver, kidney and constipation. You may also have headaches and intestinal problems. You should avoid meat and have as much vegetables and fruits as possible.

You may sometimes become lethargic and lazy. Though you have all the qualities in you, sometimes you tend to ignore them and earn easy money. You always hide your emotions and feelings from others. You believe a job is done only after you have completed it. You sometimes worry a lot.

best friends.

i have my best friends but my best friends' friends aren't me.

to hell with this world!

it would seem that nobody really understands.

not even your own mother.


doesn't anybody in this whole god-forsaken world understand that when someone's bloody tired of this world's goings-on and needs someone to talk to the last thing she needs is to be told what to do?

that's the. last. thing. that. i. need.

one good reason

voice over: there are many reasons to get angry.

(play clip: young man stepping out of a winery with bottle in hand was smacked with paint by kids on bike, his ice-cream falls from his cone to eat the floor, he got yelled at by a grocer for someone else's spilling his tomatoes on the floor, someone cut the queue in front of him when he went for his starbucks -

(same young man - superbly agitated, facing the camera, almost swinging the paper-bagged bottle in his hand -

voice over: but there's one good reason to stay calm.

(chap notices there's a bottle in his hand and smiles at bottle.)

-fade to black-

-logo fade in, logo fade out-




-sound of bottle breaking and someone cursing-

voice over: thank God for cheap wines. Madigan's.

emails and snails

potent things, those.

from emails at work to emails at work - man.

it's like dropping a pebble into a deep deep well. sometimes you get a clatter as it hits the intended bottom - sometimes you don't. and of course, sometimes the pebble finds itself terribly attracted to the sides and creates extra an extra bit of fanfare.

unintended and unaimed, but well.


it's amazing, i tell you. what you said 'without emotion' can be read as 'wah lao eh you bloody sonnofa *" - it's true!

not because it reads exactly that but because the reader's perception is coloured even before anything has been done. and as i noticed, it's the 'little men' who get bothered by things as such. and when i say 'little men' i mean little men.

the smaller ones who seem to be threatened by anything taller than themselves, whether or not they wear heels. oh, come to think of it, make that 'little people'.

it's so very amazing.


men, women. same shit. but well. i suppose after smelling like roses for the entire lifetime's worth of shitholes my time's up. time to get dirty! >:D

wow!

you gotta try this!

http://www.fhm.com/img/mailout/img/nov15/test.htm

charmed

it is so very amusing to find adults running helter-skelter to defend their pride and their authority.

never ceases to amaze, amuse.


good heavens, the human idiocy!

thirties. bah.

people judge as they will.

they jump to conclusions, they want to shake you, yell - and i ask: why?

does it make them feel clever to infer things by cleverly catching my 'slips'? do people only talk about things that happened to them? no? i don't get why people are so very keen to pin things completely unrelated to what you just said to you then.

it seems that the thirtier a person gets the more judgemental that person is. men, women - same thing. but give me an older person, the reaction will not be as such. maybe they've mellowed, maybe they've become wiser - whatever it is, it certainly makes that person easier company.

nothing against people in their thirties - it's a great age to be in. you're young, you've gotten somewhere in your life and you've seen the world and are soon-to-be leaders (if you're not one already) - but hey.

for all the years that you had been in this world, surely you understand how it is? will it take you a couple more years to understand that ramming things down another's throat either doesn't work or it backfires? or that you may have seen much but maybe, just maybe, the person you're talking to, your friend, isn't really in need of YOUR opinions?

for god's sakes let up and be a friend.

and before you think that ho! poor loren, she's gotten herself into some kind of scrape and is complaining about it - no.

it's not about me. true that i have friends who do just that but this is not what it's about. this is about people who think they're too clever by half, too sharp, too worldly-wise, too - too bloody insensitive to those about them.

you get what i mean?


it's almost like they can't help it. like a child not being able to help wanting something and screaming about it, they can't help but feel superior.

and that just takes the cake. wow.

bah

i think well of people most of the time.

and because i do, they are therefore pompous idiots.

baybeatific!

headed down to baybeats - boy it was awesome!

helped that i was there with two of my best buddies! it was a little awkward at first, maybe from the times we hadn't seen each other, but it ended beautifully. it's times like these i am truly glad to be alive.

not that i tend not to be happy that i am most of the time but you get what i mean.

cheers to friends and life!

samaritan schmaritan

i'd been mulling about this for two minutes.

confidence. what gives?


it's about self-belief, the self-awareness that you are capable, that you can take care of yourself, be it earning your keep and/or putting some moron's face in when he gets too nasty. it's about the belief that you can take on whatever the other person can throw at you.

you know who you are, what you are capable of, what you have. you have, therefore, a strong sense of identity.


then there's the feedback that comes from 'the random well-meaning person', who DOES seem to mean well but bloody can't raise any specific examples as to when you are 'not up to par' or may have 'stepped on toes' or whatnot, which leaves you bewildered. not too much, but just a touch. enough for you to ask yourself if that really is that case a second time.

not helping matters. possibly well-meaning, but doesn't help matters.

given my paranoid don't-trust-'em attitude, it's only recently that i understood this: while not many people in this world are 'good', not many are 'bad', neither. so whenever i encounter these kind samaritans i tend to slap them.


well i would like to, at least.

but seriously - if they see a problem and proceed to tell you about it without giving you the details of the problem it will be like someone coming up from behind you (blindspot) then saying 'EW' then continuing to gape and gawk and point at whatever it is that's on your back without articulating what in the world that's freaking him out so much.

you feel superbly uncomfortable because something that's on YOU is bothering him/her big time and you don't know what it is, if it's safe to brush it off yourself and you don't even know what to start to say to other passersby about the thing on your back. you get what i'm saying? the best you can do is 'excuse me (if you're polite) - is there anything on my back? can you help me take a look, please?'

and when it comes to things like 'oh, it's just something about you' then it's as good as squat. first off, assuming the person telling you 'you have a problem' really means well - sometimes it's good to get more information, like just what it is exactly that is not quite 'right' about say, my good self. and assuming there really were something not quite right about me, is it a quirk (maybe i wink each time i say hello) or is it something worth looking into because it causes a great deal of trouble (like i'm an unconscious kleptomaniac, for example, though it is really hard to be unconscious about putting things into the bag).

if it is the latter, then it is only good sense that you do somethign about it. but if it were the former - who are you to make me into who you think you will like? what do you think you are, micheal jackson??

and i'm no home alone culkin, however you may think i look like the malleable sort.



alright. nasties snipped away - if i were to find myself in this kind of situation - as in, i'm seriously bothered by some quirk/habit of someone's i'll be sure to point it out. if i can't articulate it i have no right to say it. a seemingly-DUH statement - but think about it.

woohoohoo

free games

perseverance.

yes, it makes me feel good.

it gives me a sense of well-being, makes me feel connected, make sme more confident. never mind the initial hurt/fear/passiveness.


it will all pass, and what comes after, will be worth it.

another shot in the dark

i fired a shot in the metaphorical dark, hoping i'd hit something i'd like. i'd nonchalantly reel the find in, half excited, half fearing what i'd get.

it's like that when i go out each day.


when i get on the bus, what will i see? the bus i board every morning comes from almaysia, takes me to biggis and - what will happen there, who will i meet? who is the old lady with the basket tote, the kind that old ladise wearing home-made clothes tend to carry; why is she up so early to get to wherever she's getting to, every day?

is it for work? why's she working still, at her age? shouldn't she be awash in a sea of grandchildren somewhere in jaybubbee?

who's that fresh-faced young man, not dressed in office wear but in a tee-shirt and pants. not jeans, mind, but pants. and he's often asleep with his head resting on the rubber handle that's the seat's backrest with his backpack on his lap.

then there's this petite pretty girl, with make up and rebonded shoulder-length hair who boards the bus a few stops after i get on. she's lovely; but maybe because she is lovely she stares straight ahead, not seeming to notice the bus's passage, nor other people.

has she made a doll out of herself, so as to affirm her identity not just to herself but to others?


me, i've nothing to prove.

the way i hold my glass, the way i speak or keep my peace, the way i look at people - some say i am pretentious, some say i'm too direct. others, simply think too much into what i'm saying and/or doing.

and i'm determined not to be like that.


thus i continue to not assume and not pay too much attention. not too little, neither - just enough. enough to keep me interested but not enough to make me want to pry.

and it all keeps things interesting.


so what say you to that, friends? sometimes the opportunity to take the bus is a chance some don't tend to get. sure i'm lusting after my own vehicle, but since i can't afford it, short of selling off someone else's kidney (that would be fraud, by the way, and that requires brains which i do not have much of. pity) - the bus is a pretty good way to 'know thy land', if you knew what to look out for.

maybe, just maybe - before anyone travelled anywhere, it's good to notice things you 'forgot' to notice before, aye.

bottomlesspit-itis

i've been feeling hungry these few days: morning, afternoon, night.

i wonder what's happened?

as i stare through the ring

which is impossible because i'm wearing it.

that aside: it feels good to have a place to run off to. somewhere where there is only nurturing people, chaise longues, food, drink, music and entertainment.

lovely.

just what i need to cure social fatigue.

inter, inter oh internet

internet. inter-net. in-ternet.

yes. i am now: online. woo!

about men

i think the thing about men is to simply be accommodating.

but the more important thing is - they shouldn't matter to you too much. because when they do there is a tendency to want to 'change' and 'control' them, never mind whether we are or that we are not.

they'll feel that way, even when we're not trying.


and they know when you're nagging - 'when your mouth moves'.

worshipper vs worshippee

i think, the reason why people fall into depression when they break up is really because someone they knew believed in them has stopped doing so.

some may argue that no, i will still believe in that person after i break up with him/her - it doesn't truly mean that we aren't friends or that i'd quit thinking he/she is a great person but rather because we're incompatible.


yeah, right.

what does it look like, if that person you're breaking up with really were this great? call it what you like - you're leaving the other and it's got be like a punch in the gut. (maybe that's how the gods feel when we denounce them ya? but that's another story)

that's why people tend to be bitter and have a tendency to say things like "so is he better in bed than i am?" or "does she do this?" or maybe even "why don't you go back to him, she must be quite special, otherwise you wouldn't have cheated (or whatever)" when one party does cheat.

and the worst bit is, whether or not the "third party" is special or not, it is going to look like he/she were to the person who was "virtuous", so to speak. and who can blame them?

because they believed in you the same way you believed in them. until whatever it is that led you astray.


so... i hope you hadn't missed the point here. what i'm trying to say is not about why people cheat or if people are scum for being unfaithful, but rather why and how we can fall into the trap of believing we aren't "beautiful" anymore.

it's simple, isn't it? because the one we believe in don't believe in us anymore.



no, i hadn't fallen into depression. i think i'm one of the hottest people in the world - beyonce can take her and her booty and stand on second place. and no, this one isn't inspired by any bloke - no man's worth that kind of sorrow.

"if he's worth it he won't make you cry."

'nuff said.

awwww

“It didn't dawn on me until you were gone just how much I would mis you. Sometimes I start to pick up the phone to see if you want to do something, and then I remember you're far away. Or I go somewhere we used to go, see people having fun, and wish we could be there, too, laughing and talking like they are. Don't get me wrong...I hope you're having a good time exploring new places and making new friends. I just miss you...I guess that's only natural when someone means as much to me as you.”

-renee duvall

witticism

http://www.clown-ministry.com/index_1.php?/site/articles/clean_funny_jokes_more_witty_sayings/

where else do you find lines like "Depression is merely anger without enthusiasm", "The only substitute for good manners is fast reflexes" and A day without sunshine is like, night."

hahaha i must be high on the thinner fumes that's filling the office.

dis-likeable

c'est moi.

never asked to be liked, never asked to be accepted.


pride counts all.

left

people at my workplace are leaving.

i don't really know why. overworked, misunderstood, whatnot? i don't understand.


and what does this mean, really? so what does it say? workplace.

workplace does not equal home, but what gives?

call me johnny too quick

too quick too impatient.

and damn i get results. if i didn't i'm sure i would be less destructive.


but i'm lovin' it (tm).

from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sneezing

"Sneezing is generally caused by irritation in the passages of the nose. Allergens such as pollens, pet dander, house dust mites, as well as nonallergenic particles are usually harmless, but when they irritate the nose the body responds by expelling them from the nasal passages. The nose mistakes strong odors, sudden chills, bright lights (see photic sneeze reflex), and even orgasms in some people for nasal irritants, and it tries to defend itself with a sneeze."

whoaaa defending itself against an orgasm!

you've got a lovely bunch of coconuts

eh jas how come your blogsite only got coconuts?

what happened to your site?


every time i hit your site these few i jump at the possibility of people passing by my monitor and chancing a look.

-stress-

party

was quite bummed when i got word from a friend of mine that she wasn't that keen on attending a party i had been invited to, and had been invited to ask more friends to attend.

maybe it was the way i worded it but it rather turned her off the whole deal.

i don't quite get it but at the same time i get it. it's like i understand that emotionally but not intellectually (or vice versa); a tad like practical science vs theoretical science. you know what should happen in an experiment, why it happens, but don't kno-ohw it until you really see that potassium REALLY burns in a bright blue flame. you get what i mean?


btw, su, you're invited as well. keep trying to call you these few but just don't seem to be able to get hold of you.

lemme know.


so... yes i'm bummed cause this looks to be a chance to go out and have fun as a group, know more people, see how we all fare as a group, as an individual, our schmoozing style etc etc. we know each other personally but don't know each other. it's weird.

it's a tad like sex & e city kinda meet-up; only the four of us each time.

heck it's mostly three these days.


i'm 'the busy one', they say.

yeah. maybe.


if you say so then it must be true.



alright, carping's over. good day.

share-share lah

today, as i think of the emails i had sent, the things i had shared - i wonder if i had shared too much.

hmm.


might be time to be charmingly irreverent again, yes?

-whistle-

by golly, methinks me is going through men faster than a hot butter through knife!

wait - hot knife through butter! i meant hot knife through butter.


so this chap was nice but it looks to be no-go. 38. i liked the chap, but too bad.

buh-bye darren, helloooo singlehood! :D


-satisfied-

perception, the perceived.

humans form perceptions. like it or not, they form perceptions.

that's it's such a lethal tool. once you notice it, you know what you're about.


you know what others are about.

it does not mean that you won't be who you are or that others are mere fakes - it means that you will be more aware of falsehoods, masks.

and you will be truer to yourself than before.


do you get what i mean?

like a dusty old crone

like a dusty old crone i had forgotten, the well-loved faces of these ladies i know.

we were mere girls back then. now we are ladies.


how i've missed you, sweet people. how are you? where, are you, too? it's been too long.

someone told me i'm got a lonely little pot. i think, that after so long, i've an inkling of what it is.

i think it's the lack of you.

moving in.

i'm about to take the plunge.

take him into my arms and love him. yes.

morbid

i've this morbid fascination with parasites. i've been looking out for things like guns and printers and how to defend your home and suchlike, and i'm suddenly wondering why. is it because i've a terrorist mentality?

it's weird.

i stayed in my previous apartment in the north-east and devised evil ways to deter intruders. unless they have guns or that they're mighty experienced - that or very very determined (read: desperate) - chances are they'd turn tail and run. hmm. i hadn't devised a way to trap them though.

that will be the next step.

thus i am reading up on traps. so they cannot run and may be captured. can be quite tough a target but i'm sure, with enough devious planning, i will be able to capture unwanted intruders.

but of course. i'm probably the only person out there who's got a real interest in safe-breaking, lock-picking, home-defending and gun-wielding. heh.


on top of having an avid interest in making my own things to wear and pottery, of course. ah well. maybe i should have something that can take my interest to another level. it will be interesting, no?

i mean, knowing that i can hit the mark from donno-how-far-off is quite a reassuring thing. besides grappling the person when i have absolutely no choice, i must know i have a weapon at hand to defend myself with. HMMMM

guess it's time to work out now. no strength, no fight, unless you got skills like blow-pipe er - blowing?


well yes. i'm sure you get what i mean. and this is the kind of thing people like me get into when they get bored, bored at work, with nothing to do and had to surf to keep their brainwave level up so i don't actually fall asleep. quite sad, now, come to think of it, that i have to concentrate on my typing, how my fingers somehow finding the keys to press to scramble words onto the screen.

funky, no?


ah well. back to trap-making. maybe i can devise funny things that will freak people out: like flining jars of leeches, ants and centipedes onto people who come into my home without first announcing themselves. not a real physical attack, more like mental attack.

i realise: that if i were to attack anyone i would be attacking the mind. definitely the mind.


so well. maybe i'm quite the paranoid person i think i am.

d-bah.

wednesday.

stupid men. one thing and one thing only.

monday, monday

heh. this reminds me of the breakup i had with a certain simony.

and that's how i know that darren means something to me.

but run the heck away, run the heck away.

the first one in a long time

i'd been to malaysia yesterday with this darren chap.

had a hoot and a holler walking about, got back to singapore.

later i found out that he wanted me about because he'd overstayed by 15 days and if he were to be detained i would be the one doing the calling. he used me. bastard.

and hadn't even told me what's going on beforehand. loosed an sms to him, saying it's not acceptable and got a reply that read, very simply, 'fine!'


the worst thing is: i woke with a vaguely aching heart. man, this chap's already meaning something to me? gosh. what'm i getting into, here? is it even safe to throw caution to the wind, 'ride it', as he says?

i'm not so sure myself. i like him. but is this the right way?

iteration

'iteration'.

it means 'peat'.

to re-iterate means to re-peat.


capisce?

lemming-ed

i was looking through the massive library called the internet today, and had randomly asked a librarian named google to find me pictures of lemmings.

what i got was mainly blue-clothed little squirts with green hair - they looked like they got their genetical fashion sense from from foreign planet still stuck in yesterday's future. what i was looking for was the adorable picture of a lemming held in a palm.

so i went through the rest of the pictures and was rewarded with that self-same pictuure from wikipedia's archives. goodness that picture made me melt. it must be an infant lemming: the facial features screamed 'baby' at me - how else do i fall in love with a species that so closely resembles humans.

how?

well, they are solitary animals though they can be social. meaning they can tolerate random visitors for short periods of time but will display kickass attitude when the chap overstays its welcome. and we're talking internal bleeding lynchings; the dominant male will attack - such cute little things? attack? - until there is internal bleeding, then leaves the defending lemming to slowly bleed to death. all internal. if this doesn't remind me of humans, what does?


but anyways, adorable furry things with human tendencies aside: they're SO CUUUTE!

just check out http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Steppe_Lemming - you'll be in love, too.

my father

my father's a sailor, he's last heard to be in taiwan.

before he sets sail he will usually give us a call and let us know what's going on - how long the trip will be where he will be and suchlike. either way we'd know what's going on.

but for the past three weeks nobody can get in touch with him. sms-es - nothing. it may have been some funky mobile phone disease that slowly but surely poisons the phone's circuits and causes them to rot away - but one thing's for sure: my father's missing.

he won't even go when we told him to take a one-way hike. his sudden disappearance is therefore worrying and please, pray for his safe return.

i change my mind about his hike.

eraser dust

it's more precious than the eraser, more precious than the liquid paper.

because it holds thoughts that was once on paper, whether or not they're 'good'. liquid paper? it just covers it all up.


oh yes, i prefer the eraser indeed.

life's lessons

i'm driving someone at the office nuts.

not intentionally, mind. and no, i am not talking about the boss of mine. after my email to him, he seems to have more respect for me. not that i had told him off or anything like that; it was more of a respectful request and that i know where my faults lie and that i will try my best to improve.

and i'm glad that it's this way; i gotta start somewhere and it shouldn't be 'bitching'.


but this other person, though in no way directly working with me, seems to be looking at me like i were a leper. it's so bad that she would actually swerve to get out of my way. and when she didn't she's suddenly find the floor so VERY interesting suddenly.

i cannot, for the life of me, understand why. she was quite warm towards me when i just came in, and she took care of me.

how it came to this, i have some inkling of but no clear idea as to why. i know i hated her tone and i had told two colleagues about it. but other than that -

hmm. maybe i've been backstabbed, maybe it's one of those things. but whatever it is, i know sincere communication will make it better.

simply because not many people in this world strikes out to be a 'bad' person and more often than not will take heed if the other person is sincere enough. plus i'm quite sure she's not a 'bad' person. why i'm doing this, you ask, that it's not worth my time and such?

maybe. but it will be less tiring for us both in the long run, with her trying to keep her area of breathing air clean by not having me in it and me wondering what kind of nasties she's going to send when we DO have to email each other.

so yes, i'm going to speak with her. find out what's wrong.


loren

hierachies

isn't it fun.

my magazine closed today and i realised with quite a jolt that i'm right down there where amoebas are in the food chain.

don't ask me how it happened, i don't know how myself, but i suspect it's something got to do with seein gmyself being called 'junior designer' when everyone else is, basically, 'designer' or 'senior designer'.

so yes. amoeba.

regrouping, i am.

amoeba, not very long. big predator become i will.


-meaningful little green creature nod-

in reply.

in reply to a friend's query over sms, why the late nights, dear:

heh. landladies, whom've got a charming tendency to be sarcastic when i return late. especially those who have been principals for the most of their lives and a teacher the rest of it. i'm betting the next career change is 'jailor'.


yes i've been having some trouble with the landlady lately, all seventy-odd years of it. thus i'm looking for another place to stay. same location, but different place. hoping to land one that's got a decently-sized room, with an attached bathroom, if possible. and that's it. nothing more, nothing less. i don't need sofas, whatnot. i need a mirror, a closet, and that's it.

and no crochety ole landladies who, after taking my rent monies saw fit to throw in the bargain of being my mother as well.

my mother's better-looking and younger than you, thank you very much, and i prefer to have only one.


now you can stick your self-righteous scrawny neck where someone'd be bothered.

the (h)ex that won't go away

mark.

babes would know this name, especially jenn.

mark koh, yea. bumped into him when i was taken out for drinks last night, by a 35-year old man who's going to fly to hong kong to talk to his girlfriend today whom, if things go well, is going to return with him to be his wife.

and that man with the ticket to a wife is sebastian. he's rather hot on my trail, but fortunately (or unfortunately, i hadn't decided yet. and you'll know why later) i'd bumped into mark. and his boss, who's offering me something of a job meant for later on.

and fortunately (definitely fortunately) he's off on the plane right now to HK, to leave me alone. and i pray it stays that way.


and now mark calls. wants to get together, but first he's got to settle a pregnancy scare.

-shake head- why they all lie dat one???


wah lao.

pegeant? pageant.

martin lim.

remember this name.

organiser of miss singapore tourism, a short chinese man in his thirties (35, to be exact), wears his hair close to his head and has a moustache and a bit of a beard. speaks good english.

don't forget that he's got a wife and kids.

he's also the man who found my girlfriend on multiply.com and started talking to her about 'fun and games', if you get what i mean. he's quite casual about it, went on the pretense that he wanted to find out more about legal stuff from her, advice like.

...a man like that organising an event involving girls, possibly gullible and possibly having the idea that this man can take them places?

sounds like trouble.


thankfully i found out more about this person before anything funky happened.

..though - chances of me sleeping with a short bald man is almost close to nada.


but remember that name. for he's got the potential to be in that kind of position and you sure as hell don't want someone like that up in the organisers' list.

martin lim. short chinese man in his thirties (35, to be exact), wears his hair close to his head and has a moustache and a bit of a beard. speaks good english.

remember him.