I was just indulging in a strange mental exercise the other day.

I was going through my list of friends, and trying to imagine how I would feel if they were to disappear from my life with "immediate effect".

I quite nonsense right?

I will go into mental agonies as I imagine my closest friends being eaten by sharks, trampled upon by dinosaurs and kidnapped by aliens; the greater the mental agony, the more important they are to me.
The ones I cannot do without are the ones which, if the world goes into a technological spin and all things technological disintegrates and breaks down, and SMS and MSN is wiped off the face of the earth, I will stamp my feet and kill myself because I can't talk to them anymore. It's that drastic!

Anyway, the results of that mental exercise has quite surprising results; it's quite amazing how many people I can do without when I really think about their influence and impact on my life, how I would 'feel' if they suddenly weren't there; which is, surprisingly nothing!

Of course, not everybody is measured based on what they're done for me; just by existing and being and not doing vey much really, I'm grateful for them already.

By simply putting the people I know into, "Can't do without them!", "Nice people to have around", "Can do without", and "With people like these, who needs enemies", I suddenly realise who the essential people really are.

They are the people whom life simply cannot exists without them!

Yum yum

Why am I always hungry?

Why do I eat so much even though I know I shouldn't eat so much?

Why doesn't exercising feel as good as they all say it should feel (endorphins and stuff)? Is it just me, or does anybody else feel the same?

Why can't my favourite food be carrots and cucumbers as opposed to cakes and cookies? Do I have to be a rabbit to even like carrots and cucumbers?

Why don't they have such things as fat transplants, when they have heart and liver and whatever transplants?

What does it feel to be thin, I wonder?

Why "yum"?

As wise as an...

...owl, which is my new favourite animal. Just because.

Anyway, it's only after I googled about it that I realise that owls are suppose to represent wisdom, knowledge, fertility, spirituality amongst other things.

It was then that I decided to abandon my ridiculous prejudices against the poor bird and to give it a chance. And suddenly, it's now my new favourite animal.

And anyway I think my prejudices were not very logical anyway. It all stemmed from somebody telling me that the owl can twist its head all the way round. To me, I naturally, or unnaturally thought it could turn its head 360 degrees and then round and round again, which really makes no sense because it will mean that the owl's head is disengaged from the rest of its body which will mean it's either really weird or really dead. The real deal is, the owl can turn its head up to 270 degrees!

I wish I can turn my head 270 degrees; it would be fun I think plus it would really freak a lot of people out. I like the idea of freaking people out.

But more than wishing I could turn my head 270 degrees, I want to be as wise as an owl.

wise

adj. wis·er, wis·est
1. Having the ability to discern or judge what is true, right, or lasting; sagacious: a wise leader.
2a. Exhibiting common sense; prudent: a wise decision.
2b. Shrewd; crafty.
3. Having great learning; erudite.
4. Provided with information; informed.

Puddin' and Pie!

Georgie Porgie, Puddin' and Pie,
Kissed the girls and made them cry,
When the boys came out to play
Georgie Porgie ran away

You know, I've always wanted to know more about this Georgie Porgie person. Who is he, and where does he come from? Why the penchant for desserts and specifically pudding and pie? What type of pie did he like particularly? Georgie Porgie is really quite an enigma to us living in the 21st century isn't he? Now what sort of person is he, really?

We have often quoted the very popular nursery rhyme, but have we thought about what it really says, and how much it tells us about the mysterious Grorgie Porgie?

Let us first look at the second line. Georgie happens to be quite adept at kissing the girls and making them cry. Shall we take a moment at exploring that? Why does Georgie kiss the girls and make them cry? Did he just like kissing girls, and somehow or other, the girls he kissed all ended up sadly crying, by no real fault of his? Or does a more sinister explanation lie behind all that kissing? Was Georgie's desired result the making of girls cry, and the kissing, merely a means to an end? He could have tried any number of ways to make them cry really - butchering their fingers, crushing their ribs - it's just that his preferred modus operandi was using his pursed lips. In other words, is Georgie really a sick twisted boy who enjoyed the warm wet nectar of little girls' tears that when combined with sweat and their babyishly sweet natural tastes, forms a potent concoction of sweet deliverance to dear dear Georgie?

And who were these girls that Georgie made cry? And why were they willing to let Georgie kiss them? Perhaps he was as handsome as a prince? Were just hussies who have a reputation? Or were they silly gullible naive girls? Possibly, Georgie was just very glib and persuasive in a unsuspectingly sincere way that girls can't recognise as signs to stay away, just because they weren't the normal tell-tale signs of "Trouble. Bad news. Stay away from this boy". And I wonder how many girls Georgie kissed in his life-time; and at what rate of change in any given unit of time, or otherwise known as "frequency"?

And the strangest thing of all is, Georgie Porgie ran away once the rest of the boys came out? His subterfuge and his unwillingness to be seen, especially by men seems to suggest an adhorrence of anything and everything phallic. Was he traumatised as a boy and is that the explanation for why he wanted to hurt girls and make them cry?

Or was it a physical deformity that he was trying to hide, but despite his obvious handicap, his sweet looks and his gentle voice bewitched woman into giving him their kisses and they cry from pity? Perhaps Georgie had a weight problem; after all, he did like his desserts! And when it was time for the crueller species to come out, Georgie ran swiftly away into the safety of the darkness, leaving behind remains of fresh tears of shame, intermingled with the pitying tears of the girls he left behind.

So now begs the question. Who is Georgie Porgie, what is he? Is he a harmless cheeky boy playing tricks on little girls. Is he a sick perverted serial kisser? Or is he just a fat guy who couldn't endure the taunts of other boys and who really likes sticky toffee pudding and blueberry pie?

Ouch it's lovely...

Pain is good.

And I think that's what I need to shock me out of this ennui/rut/connundrum/mental Rubik's Cube/attack of the nerves that I'm facing.

So I need to figure out some forms of self-torture. Maybe when the flesh dies, the soul will come alive.

PS Reading One Hundred Years of Solitude is a form of torture I wouldn't recommend; reading that just made me want to kill myself more than jolting me awake.

100 bloody years of solitude

I am referring to the book One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez.

Which I absolutely hate.

I'm only reading it because I promised someone I would. Which reminds me, I had better stop making such stoopid promises.

Because the book irritated the hell out of me.

Granted, the writing was quite prosey and lovely and fluid and descriptive and beautiful. And the story was fantastically ethereal and surreal.

But it was bloody pointless.

There are books who touch you and make you cry or hate or just make you sad; there are those who make you laugh; there are those who give you insights into different worlds - past, future, present and far away, or merely merely non-existent; there are books who allow you to live vicariously through another; and there are books who are mindlessly entertaining; and there are others who are min-numbingly boring but at least informative. But you come away with something, however remote, however miniscule.

But this book did nothing for me. Absolutely nothing. It just irritated the hell out of me. Well, the finicky amongst you will argue that the book did provoke some kind of emotion, albeit merely irritation.

I will categorise this book as "Irritating" or otehrwise known as "I will never ever re-read. Ever". It won't even belong to the category of "I will want to read again if it's not so boring and/or tedious and/or irritating because it's informative/provocative/impresseive". And honestly, I don't have many books in that category.

Now I'm thinking of reading his Love in the Time of Cholera, just to find out whether it's the Nobel Prize winning author who is writing pointlessly, or merely this particular "daringly original works of the twentieth century" tome which is more pointless than pointless.

Maybe I'll feel less irritated. Or maybe it'll just give me 100 years of choleric diarrhoea.

Funny, as in Funny-Haha....

With no one and nothing to sink my teeth into, I've recently just been indulging the cynic in me by reading sarcastic jokes.

From www.overhearinnewyork.com. Classic.

Don't Really Think You Have the IQ of a Semi-Retarded Iguana
Girl : What did you just say?
Guy : ...oh. Did I say that out loud?

She Says I Have to Stop Doing That at Parties
Girl #1: Cause our school gets to have three day field trips, but my mom never lets me go cause she's afraid I'll get raped, robbed, killed, or something like that. It's so unfair!
Girl #2: You tell her, "mom! I'm grown up! Look at my breasts!"

How Come Math Majors Are Always the Slowest to Understand This Concept?
Nerdy guy: I don't understand what the significance of the number 69 is. Can someone explain it to me?
Girl: You go to NYU and you don't know that? (nerdy guy shakes his head)
Girl: To put it bluntly, it's two people giving each other head.
Nerdy guy: Wait, but what does that mean?
Girl: Oh my god...I can't tell you that now. You're the most innocent guy here. It would be like killing a unicorn

Well I Am Begging with a Starbucks Cup
Hobo: Can you spare some change? Or food?
Black lady: Nigga, get a job. This neighborhood's gone too bourgeois for your ass to be begging.

And the Sphinx Was Their Internet Cafe?
Man: ...and then we visited the Sphinx and the Great Pyramid.
Woman: The Great Pyramid is where the people had their apartments, right?

"Bitch, You Awake?" Being the Second.
Boyfriend: Love you.
Girlfriend: Love you too.
Boyfriend: Love your rack too.
Girlfriend: That's the sweetest thing you've ever said to me.

Think I Know How This One Ends...
50-something woman: Do you have baked goods?
Girl with empty wicker basket: Excuse me?
50-something woman: Baked goods. Where are you going with them?
Girl with empty wicker basket (slowly looking into basket and then back at woman): To grandmother's house.

What You Get for Being Seven Feet Tall
Tourist: Excuse me, but could you please tell me the time?
New Yorker: What do I look like? Big Ben or somethin'?

Not only am I difficult, my friends are becoming difficult as well...

I think it's my bad influence, that they are becoming increasingly difficult.

Although they insist that they are not being difficult, and that I'm accusing them wrongly. Which further proves my point that they are becoming more difficult doesn't it; all this back-talk and being so argumentative is not becoming at all.

Anyway, I being the most difficult of them all, I've forced my friends to take the day off with me when I am finally allowed to take a day off. No reason why. Just because I say so.

Then we can go watch a movie, or sit at Starbucks and ogle men and women, or simply stare at the ceiling, and generally, just being, difficult.

Yes, I'm tyrannical and unreasonable and a bully and I anyhow scold people, but that's only to people I consider friends. So if you want to be my friend, you must put up with my difficultness.

So, bite me.

Interestingly, it's with people I'm not so close with that I'm nicer and friendlier and generally more polite and tolerant of their faults, but that's a story for another day.

Anyway, it certainly seems to be more worthwhile NOT being my friend than being my friend, so I guess I have to throw in some freebies to keep my friends.

So while my friends get bullied, they can expect the following benefits:-

• Free and endless entertainment, via MSN, SMS and just being in my presence is entertainment enough; a single dose of Me can last them for more than a week.


• A lot of free advice, more bad than good. And generally, they can expect me to poke fun at or make light of the situation, until they find themselves more amused than sad/angry/whatever at the situation.


• Their boyfriend/girlfriend/partner will get to enjoy the same benefits as them, free of charge. Their friends are my friends too! So upon the first meeting with their whoevers, I will be talking non-stop and telling him/her/it funny stories and poking fun of and the arm of him/her/it.


• They won't only get presents during your birthday, but they could get presents any time of the year, as an early or belated present. Christmas for them could be November, and Happy New Year kisses come in June, and their birthday present could come six months early, or late, depending on how they look at it.


• And now that I can cook, quite decently, they get to eat, drink and be merry. Just for them, I may just take out the Riesling that costs a 100 pounds from my wine cellar and beguile them with home-made tiramisu.


• Oh, last but not least, I still have two vacancies in my imaginary apartment block, which flats I'm doling out to friends I want to live with - penthouse, sea-facing, and with your very own personal butler.

Now, who wants to be my friend, put up your hand? Maybe I should hold BFF auditions, a-la Paris Hilton.

Haha!