Dinner with Niang

Niang got very big mouth...

At the last minute yesterday, I was suddenly inspired to ask Niang out for dinner. I was half expecting her to ask me to f*** off because she already had an appointment (Niang very vulgar wan!), and then proceed to chide me for being so last minute in arranging my social activities, and then go on and on and on about whatever...

To my surprise, she said ok. And then I realised, it's the first time Niang and I are meeting up, on a one-to-one basis.

I guess it stems from the strange relationship we have. If people didn't know better, they would have thought we were arch enemies, from the way we behaved around each other; always rude, always antagonistic, always violent. (I guess that's why we normally need Cuihong around, to act as referee and mediator, just in case we really hurt each other.) But the truth of the matter is, we really are quite erh, fond of each other (although we can't be around each other for 5 minutes without coming to verbal blows!). I guess it's evident in the way she said "yes" when I asked her out for dinner; she knew Ah Girl in wierd, angsty, bad mood.

Anyway, there we were yesterday, one tall tall and the other short short. It probably made for a really wierd sight, the disparity in height and everything else. Usually we have Cuihong in the middle, to be the Re person in our Doh Re Mee. (Cuihong was absent in person, but definitely present in spirit. Niang and I talked behind her back! Kekekek!)

We went shopping, and we make quite fun shopping partners; just that the people in the shop may not agree. Fortunately, we were the only people in the shop, because we were so noisy and had so many things to say (nice things of course!) about the things in the shop, we would have driven people insane, and really pissed off the shop people. In fact, the girl shop assistant was kind of giving us strange looks already.

Dinner was fun. We ate, a lot, and heartily. And didn't leave any crumbs. I finished up the mango pudding that Niang couldn't finish! (Not like dinner with Cuihong; dinner with Cuihong is always a lot of unfinished food! Very waste food! Think of all the hungry starving children in Ethopia!)

When I reached home, I realised that I was no longer feeling as angsty as before. It's really a wonder, what the company of good friends can do for one soul. Just a simple dinner, with a lot of crap nonsense desultory talk, a lot of vulgarities being spewed (from Niang lah, not me!), with some 'business' discussion of what to do with Wee-Hong; it cleared my cluttered befuddled state of mind, and washed away the angst that I've been accumulating for the past week. It's the magic pill that allows the crap that has built up within one's system to be washed out quickly, much like diarrhoea!

My friends are my catharsis, my inspiration, the reason why I cannot die young, or not what will they do without me?! Haha!

Niang! You read this finish must cry ok! Then 3rd time cry liow!

I miss you guys...

I've been acting wierd nowadays.

So wierd it's worrying. (I'm worried about my own state of mind; that's scary!)

I'm starting to have fictional conversations with my friends in my head. Sometimes it's a one-on-one tete-a-tete. At other times, there's a whole bunch of them together. It's the usual suspects, E, Niang, and Wee.

What do we talk about? Oh, all sorts of things. I can't remember off-hand. But our conversations are always rude, sometimes bitchy, but never malicious. All I know is, there's always loads of laughter and drama.

Sometimes the conversations I have in my head are just so funny, I even laugh out loud, in public.

I guess I just miss the girls. And I wished I'm able to find more time for them in my life.

Lethal combination...

You know how they say you shouldn't mix alcohol with your medication for example, because there'll be all sorts of things that could happen to you when you do that. You could even die...

Well, now I know I shouldn't mix Good Charlotte's The Truth with Mary Westmacot's Giant's Bread.

The heady angsty music of Good Charlotte with its unbelievably raw and gut-wrenching lyrics, mixed with the incredibly poignant and thought-provoking writings of Mary Westmacott; it all makes for a heavy cocktail of all sorts of wierd emotions, which I readily sinked myself into.

And the end result is, I'm now feeling really really wierd and crappy.

Never again.....

(Mary Westmacot is absolutely brilliant. I've read and re-read her novels over and over again, and every time I read it, I still feel emotions surging out of me like pus from an inflamed pimple. Goggle her and you'll be surprised to know what kinds of novels she's famous for.)

Ah girl in one of those moods....

Ah girl is in a wierd mood today. (You can tell just how bad it is by the fact that Ah Girl is writing about herself in the 3rd person.)

I'm not sure why, but I feel this incredible urge to shut down my notebook, say good bye to my colleagues, and just walk out of the office, and into the sunshine or rain (whichever is happening in the outside world).

Out into the open air, and the green fields. (Frankly, I don't even know where in Singapore I can find wide open spaces anymore. There's just urgh buildings everywhere!)

Or into a boat and out into the open sea. I've always liked the sea, and the hypnotic alluring of the waves. But it must be so far out to sea that I can't sea land, no matter where I look.

But then, beggars can't be choosers. I will even settle for getting the rest of the day off, and I can go home and curl up in bed, and drift away into my little amniotic world, where there's nobody but me and everybody and everything I want it to be.

Kubla Khan

It was a strange state of mind that I was in today - probably due to the combination too much caffeine and the ethereal opening threads of Red Hot Chilli Pepper's Venice Queen, but a poem which I learn in school suddenly popped to mind, Samuel Taylor Coleridge's Kubla Khan...

"In Xanadu did Kubla Khan / A stately pleasure-dome decree.." is about as much as I can remember about the poem though. It was said that the poem was written when in a state of drug-induced delirium, thus explaining its ethereal and nebulous quality.

I feel that I've imbibed on ambrosia, and has left earth's plains to another realm of being altogether.

And I'm not sure what the linkage is, but Kubla Khan made me think of another poem. I suppose it was the "flashing eyes" and the "floating hair" that reminded me of Keats' La Belle Dame sans Merci. She is the Beautiful Lady without Mercy/Pity, who holds in her arms the lives of kings and princesses and warriors. She takes no prisoners; to be held in her arms is to die in her arms.

(I really think I need to lay off the stuff for a while. I seem to have gone stark raving bonkers!)

How easily people forget....

Somebody finally hates me. (I think so!)

Yes, cute adorable me! (Haha!)

Finally.

I've always made it a point to not make enemies, at least not intentionally. I can't help it if they don't like my face or something right. (And seriously, if you really don't like my face, there's seriously nothing I can do to change it, unless you want to give me the money to go for plastic surgery!)

Anyway, back to the point. This time round, because of my natural tendency to want to stand up for the people I care about, and also that I couldn't curb that irrestible urge to spoof other people, I think somebody finally hates me.

And I don't care. Well, at least part of me don't care, because at the end of the day, some friendships are just not worth it. Especially if the person has made up her mind to write me off.

But, another part of me feels disappointed, disappointed because I just don't get how easily people forget.

How easily people forget, how a certain someone has gone out of their way to cover her duties when she went on holiday, and how that certain someone has gone the extra mile to help, not because she has to, but because she was trying to help.

How easily people forget, that another someone has listened to her whining and her crap, and entertained her when she's bored, and had lunch with her when nobody else wanted to.

How easily people forget, that that same someone, carried her water-bottle for her for two whole days, just because it will make an ugly bulge in her nice bag.

And she won't know this of course, because she didn't take the trouble to find out, but just took offense so easily, but a certain someone has never uttered a single malicious word of gossip about her, and has even defended her sometime, and it's for my dear friend that I feel that deep sense of injustice.

As for me, I guess it's because I was cunningly trying to find fodder for gossip when I offered to just sit with her and hear her complaints and accompany her when she's just so angry and frustrated she cried. I'm not even sure why I tried to help her smoothen over the mess she made with her tactless offensive remarks, and tried to get her colleague to go out of the way to help her. (She went more than the extra mile; she went an extra 10 miles just to hand her work nicely back to her, the way she demanded it!)

And how about the time I was kind of concerned about her, and tried to give her good advice. (Of course it was crap advice to her, just because it wasn't the kind of advice that tickled her ears.)

But of course, she doesn't get it.

Well, I guess I'm just stoopid.

And I guess some people just have bad memories.

Three little pigs and Thai food...

This is what happens when the Three Little Pigs get together. We eat, and eat, and eat some more. See my double chin a not? E taking picture, so not seen here. Hahahahaha

Disclaimer: See! I hate putting up pictures! Because they never go where I want them to go! Arghhh!

3 Little Pigs and the Big Bad Wolf

Once upon a time there were 3 little pigs. Two of these little pigs were the skinny pigs who ate only a little bit, whilst the last little pig was truly a little pig who was spouting a double chin. (Let's call them E, W and O. O's the one with the double chin.)

One day, two of these three little pigs decide to build a blog. (The last little pig is a lazy pig and refuses to build a blog. Her evil plan was to just alternate between the other 2 pigs blogs, leaving a word here and a comment there occasionally.)

Anyway, it was hard work building a blog. The 2 pigs had no experience building an elaborate house of html code (like Niang and Ah Gee had, but that is another fractured fairy tale altogether), so they had to build a simple one with what they knew.

O decided to build a pink blog while E built a sort-of-purple one. O used small-sized Verdana font, and although I'm the story teller, I don't know what kind of fonts E used. So they built and built and built and the blog became nicer and nicer and nicer. O was more prone to using words to build her blog, because when she tried to build using pictures, they always ended up wierd. E on the other hand, beautified her blog with pictures of her extra-cirricular activities which gave the male pigs weak knees and nosebleeds.

So they built and built and built and built. The blog that they aspired to build at the end of the day is one that is safe and secure and heart-warming, a place where they could invite their friends to visit and have house-warming parties and for them to stay and feel nice and warm and have a bit of fun cuddling in between words, and and the occasional picture. The blogs they built were never meant for gossip, or for talking behind people's back, or anything of that sort. It's all just a bit of fun amongst the 3 little pigs and their friends.

At the end of the day, the blogs must be strong and determined enough to keep away big bad wolves, and to make sure they don't get blown down with a huff and a puff. In fact, you know what, I think I'll ask the three little pigs to lace their blogs with wolf poison, and to build an anti-wolf fences and security system.

Big bad wolves, please keep away from the little pigs' blogs, especially if you don't like little pigs talk and find pork offensive. Because if that's the case, every little pig talk is going to sound offensive to your wolf ears. The fact of the matter is, pigs and wolves just don't mix. But point to note, polite pigs do not hypocrites make!

Disclaimer: This is purely fictional and a figment of the author's imagination. Any similarity is purely coincidental.

Even more Hippo jokes....

Contributed by Weak...

Q: How many Hippos does it take to change a lightbulb?
A: None: Nobody wants to change it, just in case they're labelled "hypocrites".

More Hippo jokes...

Q: How many hippos does it take to change a lightbulb?
A: Two. One to change a lightbulb, and another one to stand by and call him a hypocrite.

Using the dictionary....

I've just realised, to my horror, that many people do not understand the meaning and definition of the word "hypocrite". *GASP* (People who don't know the meaning of simple words like "hypocrite" probably don't understand the meaning of other words too I should think, but let's tackle it one word at a time.)

We shall use the dictionary, and the dictionary defines "hypocrite" as...
- a person who professes beliefs and opinions that he does not hold
- one who puts on a mask and feigns himself to be what he is not; a dissembler in religion
- a person who puts on a false appearance of virtue or religion

Hmm, so I can make the following conclusions just by checking out the dictionary....
- Unless something or someone is a religion, talking about it does not make me a hypocrite
- Unless I pretend to like something which I do not like, I am not a hypocrite

Ooh...sigh of relief then....

Oh, as a by-the-way, the online dictionary I used threw out the word "gossip" on the side. for all you knowledge-starved folks, here's the correct meaning of another often misused word.

gossip
noun
1: light informal conversation for social occasions
2: a report (often malicious) about the behavior of other people
3: a person given to gossiping and divulging personal information about others
verb
1: wag one's tongue; speak about others and reveal secrets or intimacies
2: talk socially without exchanging too much information;

So gossip usually refers to talk of a malicious, and personal nature, and about a specific person. Hmmm. Now the question I pose myself is, why would I want to talk about specific people whom are not related to me by anything, and whom I don't even care very much about?

Anyway, those who know me should know I don't talk behind people's back, I usually tell them to their faces.

Oh, by the way, a "hippo" is "a hippopotamous" (the idiot who came up with this definition deserves to be shot in the head!).

Seriously, a hippo is ...
1: an ancient Numidian town in northwestern Africa adjoining present-day Annaba in northeastern Algeria (Huh? Duh...)
2: massive thick-skinned herbivorous animal living in or around rivers of tropical Africa

Wow! I didn't know that about hippos!

Ahhhh! The wonders of a dictionary! It tells me so many things about myself, and other people as well, things I never knew!

Seeing red!

I'm usually a very nice person. (All those who disagree with this statement will be vapourised, and removed from the face of this earth!)

I don't belong to the type of people who has intense likes and dislikes, who passionately hates or loves certain things and certain people.

But there are some things or types of people I cannot stand!

If given the chance and opportunity, I will spit at and beat up the people who are mean to other people. Because to me, they don't deserve to exist. I hate people who make it a point who intentionally do and say things, for the sake of proving themselves right, and hurting or/and humiliating other people. For people like this, I don't plan to be hypocritical about it, and will probably tell them what a worthless piece of rubbish they are, and tell them to stay out of my sight! That's how much I loathe them. (I will do that the next opportunity I have, so be warned, and stay far far away!)

Another category of people I really really hate are wife beaters. I think I'm going to get lots of flack for saying this, but I think it's more wrong for a man to beat up his wife, than the other way around, just because a man is physically stronger than a woman. (I had a major argument with a friend about this... Note, I'm not saying that it's ok for a woman to beat up her husband! I'm just saying, based purely on physical damage done, a man can probably hurt someone more badly than a woman can!)

These people ought to be locked up behind bars. One time, I saw a man kicking his girlfriend/wife in the stomach, in public. I was inside the restaurant, and they were outside; I saw the incident happening through the window. I was ready to rush out pf the restaurant and beat the pulp out of that $&#^$(*#& ( never mind that he was twice my size, and very hairy too! I hate hairy men!). Lucky thing my friends could read my mind and knew I was ready to murder people, and they pulled me back down in my chair. The next thing I knew, the couple had disappeared! If I got my way, I would have set the police on him! Grrrr!

Oh dear! I seemed to have worked myself into a rage just by blogging about these people!. I should go and get rid of all these poisonous thoughts. It's not worth getting angry over people like this after all. I shall purify my mind and start thinking happy thoughts again. Like how some people will fall into a muddy and dirty rain puddle, and get him/herself all caked in gooey disgusting mud and other yucky stuff. Oh, and I hope there're frogs in that puddle, that will jump unto them, and into their mouths. Nice....

Hippo jokes...

Q: What do you call the people who live in a country called Hippo?
A: Hippo-crites

Q: What do you call gangster Hippos?
A: Hippo-creeps

Q: Why did the Hypocrite cross the road?
A: To get to the other side.

Q: Why did the Hippo cross the road?
A: Because it was the Hypocrite's day off?

Q: Why did the Hypocrite cross the road again?
A: To scold the Hippo for 'ursurping' his job.

Q: Why did the policeman cross the road?
A: To catch the Hypocrite for having commited a moral offense.

Send me all your Hippo jokes. I'm consolidating them all into a Hippo joke book, to be dedicated to all the Hippos of the world! Yay!

Lost!

There's a phrase that goes, ""Where your heart is, there your treasure is also".

Well, what happens if you don't know where your heart is? What happens if your heart lost its way, and can't find its way back to you?

Does that mean, if my treasure is lost too, and that I need a treasure map to locate it, and then I will be able to find my lost heart also?

Hahaah...

It must be old age; I'm becoming lame. But I couldn't resist asking stoopid questions like this.

More wishes...

I seem to be on a 'wishy' mode today...

I wish I didn't need so much attention. I wish I didn't need to be reassured every once in a while of my worth. I wish I feel justified for my existence in this world, that I won't feel like I'm taking up valuable space, and breathing precious air, by being alive.

I wish I don't feel guilty about eating chocolate, and drinking milkshakes and enjoying my food so much.

I wish I can afford more time to exercise, to take up new hobbies, to travel. I can't remember when was the last time I worked up a good sweat. I was also suppose to take up piano lessons, but still can't afford the time. If only I could, I'll take up rugby, scuba diving, fencing and mountain climbing.

I wish I don't need to brush my teeth. I hate the hassle of flossing and brushing teeth.

I wish I can be a mermaid, and live in the sea. That will be a dream come true!

I wish I can stand under a shower for a long long while, and just let the water wash over me. But that will be wasting water, and I will feel guilty about it since Singapore's water resources are so scarce. And I will be raking up huge utility bills as well!

I wish I lived somewhere where they have a nice beach, with waves their original colour, and not grey. I just want to look at it you see.

I wish I had bigger boobs....

I have a feeling this will be part 1 of many many more entries to come.....