View The Nude's Profile

Latest Blog Entries
The Author
About The Girls
Otto's Book Project
Boring Disclaimer
Email Otto

Malaysian Alien


Powered by: Blogger

Wednesday, December 28, 2005
Pornstar vs Housewife Muff

Dedicated to Minishorts

One of the first few promises that Alex said to me when we first met was, “After knowing me, all other boys are boring. I will make sure this is the case.” True enough, three years down the road, Alex lived up to his promise. I have been indoctrinated with all sort of perverse male psyche mumbo jumbo, that every other men failed to amuse me, the way Alex does.

One of my favourite Alex Indoctrination is, “Pornstar vs Housewife Muff.” According to Alex (and I find his observations to be true after all these years) women are basically divided into two categories – the pornstars and the housewife muffs.

The Pornstar
A pornstar is a man's dream girl - the girl that you would love to be seen with, the girl that you want to take to dinners, the girl that captivates the attention of all men on the floor. But don't let her looks fool you. Far from being an air head, a high quality pornstar is intelligent, assertive, sexy and quick witted. Her smiles sparkles with a sense of confidence and when she walks into any room, every man and woman will turn and look at her.

There are many grades of pornstars, the lowest being pretty air heads (think Jessica Simpson, Paris Hilton and Anna Nicole Smith) and the ultimate pornstar being one who juggles being the perfect boy's toy and the money maker. Nothing is sexier and pornstar than a woman who buys her own blings. She is a joy to be with and friends enjoy her company. Top grade pornstars will garner the attention and devotion of her man (and perhaps one or two ex-boyfriends) for years and will always be an object of fascination for both men and women.

High grade pornstars delight in friendships with men and women. She has her clique of close girlfriends, supporting each other (emotionally and professionally) over lattes, Foie Gras and really beautiful shoes (whatever it means to her). She takes pride in her looks, so that means well maintained everything - hair, nails, body and face. She dresses well and appropriately with a hint of elegence.

How to spot a Pornstar?
  • If a pornstar was a garden, she will be a well tended and maintained garden.

  • She wears heels, even when she washes the dishes.

  • A pornstar has a pornstar muff down south. She shaves.

  • She is secure in her relationships with men - be it on a platonic or love level.

  • Examples of pornstars: Angelina Jolie, Anna Kournikova and the post-divorce Nicole Kidman.

The Housewife Muff
A housewife muff is a China Man's dream wife - the one you leave at home, next to the kitchen sink pregnant. The Chinese have a name for her "wong meen por". She fusses over everything and nags over everyone. She forgot that she is a lady and should be taken care with gentle love. Instead the housewife muff launches herself into Rambo mode - cleaning the house (in slippers, shorts and T-shirts of course), nagging that her husband/boy friend does not love her, hot topic of conversations revolves around diapers, milk powder, household cleaners, her husband whom she suspects is having an affair with the 18 year old secretary, her second cousin just gave birth to another baby and how her mother used to take care of the family of thirteen with her bare hands.

She does not take care of her physical self. Some housewife muffs lost themselves when they became involved in a relationship, changing from pornstar status to housewife muff. To give some housewife muff some credit, most are wonderful women who sacrificed themselves for their children and family. Some were so caught up ferrying their children to school, karate classes, swimming lessons, French weekend parties with the La Pews that they forgot to look at themselves in the mirror. By the time they looked at the mirror, years have rolled by and her eyes lost their sparkles. And they do not know what to talk to their man anymore because they have not truly TALKED for years.

Rotten housewife muffs are those who 'let loose' in a relationship. These are the women who thought that they can just put down their guard, now that they are securely in a marriage/partnership. So they stop wearing the shoes, the lipstick and the pretty bras. They start piling up the pounds lining up at buffets because they felt that now that they have a man, they do not need to take care of their physical self anymore.

Instead of being a fun and interesting person, a housewife muff will complain and nag. Not only to her man, but to everyone, friends and family included.

A housewife muff reeks of desperation.

How to spot a Housewife Muff?
  • If a Housewife Muff was a garden, she will be the garden with wild bushes growing and leaves everywhere. She literally is an unwatered garden.

  • She fails to dress appropriately because she failed to understand her body.

  • A Housewife Muff has a housewife muff down south - unruly and unshaven. For YEARS.

  • She is unlikely to have any relationship with anyone other than her man. Since her man is her whole world, she often is insecure and desperate.

  • Favourite passtime is to nag and complain.

  • Examples of Housewife Muffs: I am sure you have your fair share of Housewife Muffs within your work place and your neighbourhood.

I am sure that some of you readers will be outraged by what I wrote and perhaps even outraged by what Alex has been teaching me. How can we classify women as if they were goods in a market or departmental store?

I have always been very attracted to Alex's honesty. Sometimes it might not be the thing that you want to hear (as a girl) but what Alex offered me was uncensored male perception of the female form and role. Granted that there are all sorts of men in the world and there would be men who prefer one over another. This Pornstar vs Housewife Muff is a general observation about men and women and the relationships they form.

Some Thoughts On Men
A general rule of thumb is the higher the position of the man, the more he will want a pornstar. He might keep a housewife muff at home to breed his genes but he will keep some playmates in some other postcodes for 'entertainment'. Men know this rule, but how many women do?

The few exception is good men who are contented with what they have and are loyal to their love. Then again, how many contented men are truly SUCCESSFUL by the public's definition?

Some Thoughts On Women
Some women started their young lives as pornstars and slowly they lost themselves when they got married and had kids. They suddenly turned into housewife muffs, trailing after their man, wailing, nagging and screaming foul murder as younger models of pornstars surround their husbands.

Some women are pornstars forever. Madonna is still one at 47. Okay she amassed a great fortune with her bare hands but you get what I mean... she is stunning for her age, she has her career and her family. And she keeps her man happy, in and out of the sack.

On being a girl
I think every woman has her moments. Some days we are pornstars and some days we just break down and cry. As Minishorts said on more than one occasion, "her tai yee ma visited".

Alright people, I have to stop for the moment. It's time for me to get dressed and put on my pornstar heels.


Sunday, December 25, 2005
Escape Me Now

After mulling over Bloodied for more than a month, I’ve decided to post the chapter yesterday. What you read in Bloodied is merely the first half of the chapter, with the 2nd half being the crux of the story and the essence of Nude, Not Naked will be revealed. However I published that chapter the way I left it (as written more than a month ago) – unfinished and unpolished. It will remain this way until I am ready to write the 2nd half of the chapter.

I am unsure if readers realised that all the chapters are written in two portions – the first half tells Otto’s current life and the second half is her flashback memories to a time gone by. A diligent reader will realise that there are correlations between the first half and the second, in very minute ways. For example, the words Otto used to comfort the dying dog on the street were the very same words she used before to comfort Damien in Fix You.

The Future
What I did not realise earlier than yesterday was what I wrote in Bloodied actually happened. Please read Before The Next Teardrop Falls for a detail of the experience and you can make a comparison of the experience.

It occurred to me that perhaps Nude, Not Naked was indeed an insight into my life. While the characters, location of pubs, bars etc do not exist in reality, the themes from Nude, Not Naked are somehow a reflection of my thoughts and emotions.

Bloodied was written on November 12th 2005 and Before The Next Teardrop Falls was penned for the December 16th weekend.

Could it therefore be possible that my subconscious knew something similar would happen in my real life and was somehow preparing me for the whole experience? Is it possible that Bloodied was my subconscious processing my surrounding and that my subconscious knew that there are people with not so good intentions around me? And just like Bloodied, I had my own 'cuts' in my real life.

If only I could predict the lottery…

Kangkong For Christmas Dinner
I spent all previous years out drinking and partying with my friends. Some years were spent with E, PY and Alex. Some years were spent in huge groups of friends, making nonsense everywhere we went.

But this year Christmas was celebrated with a difference. I had Christmas dinner alone at home. Just me and a bowl of kangkong and CSI marathon.

I guess if I wanted to go out with my friends, I could have done so. But somehow I grew tired and weary of crowds in recent months, hence me eating kangkong alone in front of the TV. It wasn’t bad at all. I had Horatio from CSI Miami all to myself *smiles*

The Power To Choose
A different story on Christmas eve though. I was poorly (am still sniffling and coughing) and was contemplating going out and staying in. What? Stay in on Christmas eve? I must had developed high fever and fried my brain if I stayed in bed on the 24th!

Cough and flu left the moment I started dressing up. I honestly believe if you take care of yourself, you will feel good about yourself. And you owe yourself that much – to LOVE yourself. Feeling blue? Just wear the most beautiful pair of heels and treat yourself to something beautiful. You deserve it.

Anyway, back to Christmas eve at 2300 hours. Me dressed up, got into the car and drove myself to Lola. I was wondering if I would end up doing the Xmas countdown in my car. I did not. I did it walking two blocks to Lola *hahaha* I swore I would better prepare myself next year, rather than sauntering over to the pub at the final hour!

The place was freaking packed (duh!) and there was a long queue. I was so so so weary. Many thoughts going through my mind: Should I go in? Should I line up like a good girl should? Should I just give up? Should I fucking even be here, alone on Christmas eve?!

I have been really lucky in previous escapades out drinking with the boys or the girls or as a whole damn batallion of us. I politely excused myself as I walked forward, smiled at the bouncers, who smiled back and let me in. I could hear people grumbling, “Unfair, unfair!” but hey, I loved these people with Xmas cookies and treated the bar staff to huge tips, ok?

I found D, gave him a Xmas hug, wished him and gave him a small present. A leather keychain. Very macho and very him, I think.

I then, joined the rest of the group in the VIP room. Met D’s best friend and sat with him for a few minutes. Merry Christmas. Smile. Chat chat chat. Blah blah blah. What would you like your whiskey with? Coke, please. Ok, blah blah blah.

I took out my mobile and flipped it about. I broke my last mobile flipping it. I did this often whenever I felt boredom descending on me. And boy, boredom was descending at a greater speed than Mr. Johnnie Walker, himself.

In a sea of people around the bar, I chose to sit alone and flip my mobile. I could have just smiled and chatted with the girls and boys sitting next to me but I did not.

I was waiting for my best guy friend and his fiancée, who were still having their Xmas dinner. Three glasses of whiskey later, I was more red than Rudolph and could have gladly guided Santa on his sleigh.

Instead, I went to the girl’s room and was pleasantly surprised to find a long time friend standing in front of the powder table. We hugged, chatted and exchanged news. We have not met each other for close to a year and so we caught up for the longest time.

While walking back to the car with D’s best friend, he asked, “Where are your friends?”

“In Phuket,” I said.

I had friends in Phuket. I had also friends in Lola that night. What D’s best friend failed to understand was that I liked the fact that I have the freedom to choose my friends.

And on Christmas eve, I wanted true friends. Friends that I could talk heart to heart to, those that I can trust with my secrets and my fears. Not just the hoohaa drink drank drunk friends.

Failing which, I would rather spend it alone eating kangkong.

Which I did.

Short talk
E is away in some jungle for Xmas and New Year celebrations. PY felt too old for midnight parties. Some others (the couples) were in Phuket, thus leaving me with my best guy friend and his fiancée. Hence my loneliness during Xmas.

The Boy Is Mine
“Don’t’ you know? D’s gotten himself a girlfriend, XYZ,” she said.

“Well you shouldn’t trust him too much,” she said as she blew smoke into the air.

“He is an excellent friend,” I smiled with a smile.

“Don’t you worry. He loves you,” she said, tapping my hand to console me.

Did I need consolation because D has found a girlfriend? Didn’t I spend evenings with him, checking girls out for him in Lola? That I did, spending evenings drinking with him and his friends, checking girls out and encouraging him to go ask for their numbers. And each time, he would turn away and said he was not interested. D said those girls were no his type and he did not like any of them. Did I feel happy? Did I feel anything at all? I cannot remember.

“He is very careful of whom he is out with. You will never see him sitting with any other girl but you,” she said. “He brazenly shows deep devotion and affection to you.”

“Come here, Otto. The DJs want to know you,” D said.

Blah blah blah. Cheers! Toast, chatter blah!

After some courteous exchange, I was ready to go home and so excused myself to the girl’s. When I walked out, a bunch of boys were sitting at the bar, away from the rest of the group. Some were friends of D’s, whom I knew from our various drinking adventures at 0500 hours. The rest were new. So I sat and chatted for a bit.

“Who dares to bully Otto? Who dares?” D said. He came over and joined the rest of us at the bar. Boys are boys, even when drunk and these boys were just the same. They pulled at each other, like all good friends would.

Feeling tired, I gave up and wanted to crawl home at 0500 hours. Wished everyone good night, gave D a good night hug and walked away. On all other nights, D would hold my hand and walk me to my car.

That night his best friend walked me to my car.

I know it shouldn’t matter. And it doesn’t.

But it does. And I am lying, if I said otherwise. Why? Why why am I feeling this?

Yes, I am jealous. The boy is mine. This feeling is very new to me. I felt jealous when I was a child, fighting for my parents’ attention. I have never felt it (can’t think of any at the moment) as an adult and most certainly not in boy-girl friendship/relationships.

Yes, I know it is wrong. I know it is unfair since I am not offering D any form of relationship at all. Not even the hope of one. And I know that one day, he will find someone to love and he will not pay me the kind of attention that he has been paying me for the pass 2 years.

Yes, I know that I have Alex and this D thing should not affect me at all. Alex’s love is all I need, right? Right? Right?

Two things I believe that mankind
will never complain of
having too much.
The first being money
and the second being LOVE.

Who doesn’t like the feeling of being loved? Being cherished? Being wanted? Being thought of? I honestly think that you are mad, if you say that it doesn’t matter if you lost this secondary (or whatever) love, just just just because you have another love. What total BS!

This feeling is separated from the fact that I am in a relationship with Alex. I don’t feel that I need more love and therefore should get it from Alex. I think Alex loves me dearly and it is sufficient.

I am just mourning someone who used to think of me at 0500 hours. Someone who worried for me and kept an eye on what I did. Someone who called me to make sure I'm safely at home, even when we were never together during the night. Someone who welcomed me into his private world and shared his life with me. Someone who was just himself, strong and weak.

Dear D,

We spent many evenings drinking together. You told me secrets and I have shared mine. Over the years, you have proven yourself to be a good friend and a delightful companion. And I shall miss you now that you are gone.

But I wish you all the best and that you will find happiness with XYZ. As I have said before this and I will repeat it again, thank you for being an excellent friend. I appreciate your friendship and now mourn that you are gone.


Gotta talk to you, baby,
Talk to you now
Say it isn't too soon
See me again, sort it out
I got a feeling
Feelings don't lie
Don't let the words
Oh, escape me now
Oh escape me now
Oh escape me now
~ Talk To You, Tracy Chapman.


Monday, December 19, 2005
How To Be A Drama Queen - A Daphne Teo Satire Part Two

Okay doing those damn webcomics took a bloody long time.

This will be the last of the Daphne satires. After all, there is only that much to say about the great Singaporean drama queen...

Let me introduce (though she needs no introduction) Malaysia's finest (and I mean it as a compliment) drama queen - YC of the Black Jetta fame. More lovable, more intelligent, more everything.

All hail Queen YC!


Sunday, December 18, 2005
Before The Next Teardrop Falls
If he brings you happiness
Then i wish you all the best
It's your happiness that matters most of all
But if he ever breaks your heart
If the teardrops ever start
I'll be there before the next teardrop falls
~ Before The Next Teardrop Falls, Freddy Fender

The Plead
Alex, please please please please pleaseplease please please please pleaseplease please please please pleaseplease please please please pleaseplease please please please pleaseplease please please please please take me out of this hellhole.

This post is now private. Email me if you wish to read the rest of this entry.
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Between The Bars

" Drink up, baby
Stay up all night
Things you could do
You won't but you might

The potential you'll be
You'll never see
Promises you'll only make
Drink up with me now
And forget all about
Pressure of days
Do what I say
And I'll make you okay
And drive them away
Images stuck in your head

People you've been before
That you don't want around anymore
That push and shove and won't bend to your will
I'll keep them still

Drink up, baby
Look at the stars.
And I'll kiss you again
Between the bars
Where I'm seeing you there
With your hands in the air
Waiting to finally be caught "

~ Between The Bars, Madeleine Peyroux

The Pink Skirt And The Pornstar
I woke up this morning and wore a black with pink polka dots skirt. It is my new favourite pink skirt. It will be my favourite, a choice piece that I wear day in and day out. And it will be my favourite till I find another pretty pink or purple pink skirt.

The skirt looked pretty. It had to be since it my new favourite pink skirt. What troubled me was that I was able to find another skirt and love it just the same. Or heaven forbids, commit fashion fornication by loving another skirt MORE!

The Aftertaste
The wedding left an aftertaste in my mouth. I met two of my primary school friends. We played hop scotch when we were tying pony tails. These two friends of mine, D and J grew up and got married. To each other.

It never ceases to amaze me how small the world can be and how you will marry someone that you grew up playing tag and five stones with. The last when I saw them, they had a daughter, now aged three years. This time around, J carried a beautiful boy who was only a month and a half. J looked beautiful, with her doe eyes and pinkish lips. D looked older, with a moustache and a Rolex. I bumped into J at the buffet line and we exchanged news.

Seeing both of them happy made me feel happy inside. It also made me wonder do I have my priorities wrong? I love the life I live now and I will never exchange it for anything. Yet at dinner tables and gatherings, my old relatives make me cringe with their relationship ‘encouragement’.

I am not as gorgeous as Dawn. Neither am I as rich as Daphne. But I know what I am. I am nowhere desperate to be married or engaged. I have what many women consider a man’s flaw: the inability to settle down. The exception is that I am a woman. As I mature and grow older, I am now left with very few single comrades in the single camp.

The battle of Smug Marrieds vs Singletons are neigh high!

My Inability
I love the romantic notion of being with a man. I even love having Alex around in the evenings, when we invite friends over and have a curry and DVD night. Yet I am fiercely independent and I hate the thought that I would turn into one of those ‘contented wives’.

You know the sort that your aunties and uncles describe as being the perfect life: A caring husband, a holiday once a year in Europe, a big car with that only uses acronyms, a HUGE house that is tastefully furnished, a maid to take care of the 2 kids (a girl and a boy of course) that you will have and a damn bloody Shitz Zu puppy tailing after your shadow. Did I mention the three designer bags from the latest season, a 1.5 carat diamond ring and probably the whole range of La Mer or SKII, to make sure your husband will always be attracted to you?

I hate the concept of this ‘perfect life for a woman’. I hate it so much, I decided that I should remain single till I can define what quantifies a perfect life FOR ME minus a yelping Shitz Zu.

Compounded by the fact…
“Think more of a house instead
of the latest season”

“Think more of a long holiday
than a big ring”

Think more of a house... I am trying to remind myself... or at least try to convince myself.. no latest season... no nice shoes...

I am so gonna crawl out anything that does not allow me to possess nice shoes. I should know better. I bought three pairs of shoes that I do not need over the weekend.

More meows from me later.


Tuesday, December 13, 2005

"Playa listen, yeah, I'm a Miss and I go to clubs and I sip on Cresson
That don't mean I'm like the rest of them tricks
In the party getting naughty, chasing money and dicks and
No, you got me all wrong brother
No, I'm a woman that's strong brother
Yeah, it ain't nothing wrong with a woman in the club
Getting freaky to the song

Monday at the disco club
Tuesday at the disco club
Wednesday at the disco club
Thursday at the disco club
Friday at the disco club
Saturday at the disco club
Sunday at the disco club
Every day's the disco club
See us at the disco club
See you at the disco club"

~ Otto's weekend anthem: Disco Club, Black Eye Peas

The Wedding Singer
... and so there wasn't a tall, slim, handsome man with bits of facial hair to dance with at the wedding reception over the weekend. It felt pathetic sitting alone, on a table full of strangers (and a god-aunt) while people (meaning the old folks because we - young chicks and chicos - just do not know how to dance) were walking pass me to the dance floor......

The garden wedding was beautifully planned. A cocktail party after the exchange of rings. Thenafter, dinner and dance by the poolside. It felt almost magical as the sun set into the horizon and the band started playing slow numbers, to set the tone for dinner.

A voluptuous hot hoochie mama in black and electric blue dress sauntered over to the mic. I can still remember the first song she sang, "L-O-V-E" by Nat King Cole.

"L is for the way you look at me
O is for the only one I see
V is very, very extraordinary
E is even more than anyone that you adore can"
~ L-O-V-E, by Nat King Cole

If I had a wedding reception, I am DEFINITELY going to hire the band. It was just the perfect thing to set the pace for the evening - romantic, smooth and soulful.

God-ma was HOT with a capital H! My god-pa doesn't dig dancing, so god-ma dragged a relative to the dance floor. And slowly the whole dance floor filled up with adults and children alike, all dancing merrily and exchanging partners along the way.

And all I could do was sit in my chair and pray a million times, "Please please pleas please GOD.... be fair to me. I want to dance too!!!" The lady next to me poked my ribs and asked me to go up and dance. I wanted to yell, "Harlo, aunty.. you see any man want me or not? See or not? That's why I am the single one here at the table, oiiiiii! NO MAN ASKING ME TO DANCE!!"

Would have been more fun screaming that into her ears than what I actually did, which was to smile and keep my mouth shut.

Then something strange happened. The drummer said "Introducing B" and suddenly the saxaphonist stopped sax-ing and started singing! And looked straight at me in the eye and smiled. And he looked. And glanced. And smiled. And looked yet again. And so it happened - I did not have anyone to dance with but I was serenaded by a cute wedding singer/saxophonist all through the night. I no longer felt quite so alone on a table full of strangers.

Just as I was about to leave, a waiter came over with a mobile phone. On it, listed his name and mobile number. I jotted it down and walked away from the reception without even looking at him for goodbye acknowledgements. However 2 hours later, I sent him a text thanking him for a nice evening.

I told him that he had a very good job, “making girls smile”. He liked that job description.

And that was it. The end.

All accommodation woes were sorted. Our old account with Cititel must have meant something because we got a room after being put on the waiting list on late Thursday evening. Everything turned out beautifully (with the exception that the rooms are now half the size) since we three girls had such fun compliments of a bottle of Baileys and Absolut.

Left to right
E, Otto, PY

Went out approximately 10 p.m. to Sri Hartamas. Danced the night away with some other friends and generally had great fun. Really enjoyed myself and even more so when someone took some photos of us three!!! It’s been ages since I had a photo of us together, so I appreciated the effort.

E poured me half a glass of vodka, mixed with cranberry juice. It was so yummy that I had three more of those. All I can say is "Weeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!" with both hands stretched out like plane. Blurry and fun. A friend called me at 0345 hours for supper and I was slurring.

Last conversation before I slept
Otto: Eh you guys can just close my iBook and the iTunes will shut ok.
E: I can sleep with the music on.
PY: Yeah, I am enjoying the music, so let’s just leave it on.

At that point, the music seemed like noise but I was not bothered enough to put the laptop to sleep.

Slept like a baby. I threw my cheapo Nokia somewhere in the middle of the night. Damn enjoying the moments when the mobile kept ringing with 0500 hours calls!

Madness on Saturday
One hour late for appointment in XYZ.
One hour late for meet up with friends in One Utama.
One hour late for meet up with breeder friend.
Thirty minutes late for wedding service.

Further thoughts...
Couldn’t decide on which kitty I wanted. Was so torn between a male best of the litter and a female darling pussy cat. Am contemplating the purchase of the female and naming her, “Blue Lily Maxine”.

There goes my savings.


Waiting For The Day
Friday, that is. Ex-bf and I had not spoken since last Thursday. How often to you hear a girl saying that she needs space? Well that’s me. I need space. I can’t do this lovey dovey mumbo jumbo 24/7. Drives me insane.

I fare better with the “absence make the heart grow fonder” approach.

The Reason
So I guess the above is the reason why I am still with Alex and I choose to be with Alex. We are apart for some months and are together for some. It gives me space to do my own things (like REALLY work like hell, paint my nails and shave me damn hairy legs!) in peace, knowing that he is fine and that he is also doing his stuff.

He never once asked me to choose him. I guess that is why I chose him.

Woman! Complicated. So go figure.

Survived the weekend with three pairs of shoes, two jackets, two dresses, two skirts and a pink blouse. Maybe I should a Daphne entry soon, just because my stuff’s so cute. Adored them so much, I slept on them on Sunday night. Now that’s I call

Progress in Nude, Not Naked has come to a halt as a direct result from the weekend *evil crackle* I promise, I promise… within the week.


Thursday, December 08, 2005
From Otto With Love

Forgive me for this entry if it appears to be a little haphazard.

I have caught fever and it is running so high, my head is dizzy in the heat of everything. You see, my god-bro is getting married this weekend in Pan Pac Glen Marie and his wedding fever has rubbed on me. This entry is one of the few entries when I come across as a total airhead, really truly Daphne style.

The Bowl, The Chopsticks, The Spoon and Me
More than ten years ago, a church lady took a liking for me. She liked me so much; she kept inviting my parents for dinner at her place. “Oh yes, bring Otto along,” she used to say. This bespectacled lady was truly fond of me and through specific hints during her conversations with my parents, it was generally accepted within the church circles that she wanted to make me her daughter-in-law. The only one catch was, I just finished high school then.

Mother suggested that she take me as a god-daughter, seeing that she liked me so. She gave me a piece of jewellery and a set of eating utensils (bowl, chopsticks and spoon) to symbolize that I am welcomed in her house and her dinner table anytime. And thus, she officially became my god-ma. I stopped calling her “aunty” and started calling her “kaima” (which is god-ma in Cantonese).

There are many things that I should thank god-ma for. For one, I know that she loves me more than I love her. Knowing this makes me feel guilty and it makes me want to be better - I promise to spend more time with her, to visit her more often, talk to her more, blah blah blah more.

On my social calendar, this weekend is marked with a big, bright red marker pen because it is my god-bro’s wedding. God-ma said it was HUGE dinner and dance thingy, so I had to get myself a cocktail dress. All girls love playing dress up and here I have an excuse to dress up. Yay! Oh I love the dress that I had tailored *smiles* A black tube dress with white piping and a white ribbon running on the right side of the dress. So Audrey Hepburn.

Alas I do not have a partner to dance with. Will some tall, slim, handsome man with facial hair please come and dance with me? Pretty please??

Will also spend this weekend getting pissed with girlfriends. I begged E “Please, please, please, please take me along. PLEASE!” this weekend because I want to get absolutely sloshed this weekend and in need of a driver. This weekend 48 hour party orgy turned out to be the most perplexing weekend planning I have ever organized because...

... according to our party tradition, we check into a hotel. Don’t even ask me why we bother but we do. Usually Concorde but it’s fully booked this weekend! Damn it. Glen Marie would have been convenient for the wedding reception but totally hazardous to return to after a night out. I ended up spending hours texting and contacting Renaissance, Maya, Concorde, Hilton and Glen Marie to book a room for us, girls.

Needless to say, my phone’s totally out of battery at the moment, my ears are hot and my fingers' numb. Damn it.

Madness on Saturday
I need to run to XYZ to fill up an application form and schedule a visit to a cattery to visit my new Maine Coon kitten, which I named Winter Maximus. It is meant to be a gift from the breeder friend of mine (since my little Pebbles died).

Side note: Did you notice a Maine Coon in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire?

PY scheduled an appointment at 12 noon on the same day and we are supposed to share a car.... O_o

And somewhere along the day, we need to squeeze in a shopping trip and a night of drinking (after a night of heavy drinking). Did I mention that the wedding service starts at 5:00 p.m.?

Further thoughts...
I really do not think that I should be visiting XYZ aka my future employers after a night of crawling around town. Might need to restrategize this weekend again.


You think the above was bad? Wait till you hear this next part. It only gets W-O-R-S-E-!

As I was planning for my god bro's wedding, my high school sweetheart was planning a trip back home to attend his sister's wedding.

Side note: I have always wanted to visit his hometown. We grew up together, this ex-bf and I and in our time together, we spent many hours talking about a land that I have never seen and a life I have never lived.

Consequently I spent countless hours trying to convince him to fly on 11th October instead, so I could join him after my god-bro's wedding do. He wanted to spend more time with his family and so flew home three days ago WITHOUT ME.

(Reflecting on the whole thing, I feel relieved that he flew without me. Imagine spending another RM550 on plane tickets and 5 hours in flight, then being immersed in a totally diffirent culture for ten days?)

Ex-bf went home and discovered that his parents asked of me – “Why isn’t Otto here?” Shocked would be too simple a word to describe him at that moment. You see, we broke up more than seven years ago and he never imagined his parents asking about me seven years on. His parents hassled him to invite me again and he hassling me to go since his parents invited. And I feel torn inside because I really do want to go visit the land below the wind but I can't since I have arranged for everything (hence above).

Probably this whole episode brought up a lot of memories of unfulfilled dreams. Compounded by the fact that his sister was due to marry on the 12th, I guess he was thinking about a lot of stuff, which was then poured on to me. This becomes an issue that I need to deal delicately because we are on very good terms and I know that he is one of those people who will be a constant in my life.

“Come only if you wish. Not accountable for what might happen. Don’t come if you don’t love me. It will be torture.”

Ever heard of the saying “if you love the bird, you release it because if it loves you, it will come back”?

I am that bird that was released because he loved me. And I have flown back. Not only have I flown back, I have discovered that I am here to stay. And I will never leave.

To Alex.

Because I love you.

These few weeks have been tough. As I announce that I am taking my relationship with him a little deeper, it appears to me that the world is conspiring against Alex. The more I feel committed to him, the more the world is trying to yank me away (with what I imagine to be a huge scrapper).

Ex-bf. AB. D. M.

And so in these few weeks, I discover that the world is selfish. For love. For lust. For romance. For pleasure. For passion. For sincerity and insincerity. For the pass and the coming future. For themselves.

I’ve learnt to be selfish. For Alex.

And you’ve been wondering…
By now, I am sure you, my dear readers, would beam in a chorus of “No wonder you’ve not written much in Nude, Not Naked.”

Indeed it is no wonder. My life is one huge puddle of water on a rainy day. I have been a good girl though *hint to Santa* as I have spent time plotting the next chapter.

Do expect the next instalment to be out by Monday the 12th. That is, if I survived the weekend to write the ending. HAHA!

I hope you guys understand what I have been meaning to say today. It’s a whole load of gibber.

Cheers folks. Enjoy the weekend and I hope to catch you guys on Monday.

From Otto, with love.


More Than Words

Reading Malaysian Alien's entry on childhood and bullying made me smile. Here is my story of a time when I knew a boy named Chee Meng.

He stood at the corner and watched me jump ropes with the girls. We were 7.

He stood at the corner and watched me jump ropes with the girls. Then he flipped my skirt and screamed, "Pink color!!!!" We were 8.

He made me cry each day as we rode on the bus home. Father waved his finger menacingly at him but he laughed as the bus went down the road. We were 9.

He asked me why I didn't wear a bra. I turned beet root red with embarrassment. We were 10.

When hormones kicked in, I paraded my developing breasts and stuck out my tongue. We were 11.

I screamed at him because he said I was flat. We were 12.

Father sent me to a different high school and I had a year of peace. We were 13.

Met him again during tuition. We were changed physically - he bigger with a cracked voice and me taller with longer hair. We were 14.

He walked me home one day after tuition. For once, he was nice. We were 15.

He turned up at my door every day at 6 a.m. We went bike riding around our housing area. We were 16.

We became friends. He sang "More Than Words" to me and taped it in a cassette. We were 17.

We lost contact. We were 18.

Chee Meng, wherever you are, know that I think of you often. I laugh for all the stupidity we've done together and smile whenever I hear "More Than Words".

Be well and be happy.

Women forgive and not forget.

But best of all, Eu-Jin, women remember the sweetest things you've done.



Saturday, December 03, 2005
I Love Daphne Teo! - A Satire

I Love Daphne Teo.

Alas I have been rejected by Daphne Teo. She has password protected her blog and only friends and family are able to access her blog from now on. She has rejected hundreds and I am one of them.

To mourn the lost of this most beautiful and greatest blog on earth, I shall dedicate this entry ala Daphne Teo’s style.



I am Otto.

I felt bored yesterday, so I went out shopping with my bestfriend. See the blouse and earrings she is wearing? Those are mine, mine, MINE!

We went to LV today and saw the most beautiful shoes. What do you think? I like the pink one and the blue one but I can’t decide. Which do you think is more cute?

The pink?

Or the blue?

I can’t decide, so I bought both!

Here are some other shoes that I want to buy.

Red and blue looks so cool!!!

Match the Dior Vintage Bag I left in the closet for ages!
Now they look good together!!

Monday class wearing this and my Chanel bag. Tee hee hee!!!

Viva la Dolce and Gabbana! Couldn't decide on this so I bought in all colors. Mummy sent me extra money this month anyway.

This goes so well with my Chanel bag and Marc Jacobs jacket. What do you think?

We met up with E, F and G for dinner and drinks at the most posh restaurant in the city. There is a 3 months waiting list but here we are.

Wee, having a party!

I drank bubblies!

And more bubblies!

What do you think? Do you think I have a beautiful life? Oh yes, I do, I do, I do. My father loves me. My mother loves me. My cat loves me. My new boyfriend loves me. You love me. I love me.





Okay I am tired playing Daphne, so the satire ends. To be honest, I really did enjoy Daphne’s blog for what it was. Just a simple look into the life of another girl. It mattered not to me whether she bought all the stuff she has mentioned. It did not matter whether she was as rich as she portrayed herself to be. It bore no consequence in my life at all. Daphne was just pleasant read, a no brainer blog that you can just read, smile (feel happy for her, for the things she has acquired) and move to other blogs with meatier content.

When she committed blogcide, I’d think she was gone forever. You know, like how every mortal is on earth; dead, gone and soon after, forgotten. But hey, Daphne is like Lazarus of the Bible. She fucking resurrected herself and posted entries after her supposedly blogcide. The fact that she said she wanted to close her blog down, then reappear and then password appear, simply cries of "I need attention. NOW!" *stomps feet and holds breathe until face turn blue*

Daphne should really question what on earth is she trying to do by doing these acts. It shows nothing more than a very childish and indecisive Daphne.

Words are words and when you say you will go, you fucking go. Don’t look back and don’t come back because you loose the respect of many for coming back. What more on the same blog with the same concept and name?

If I were Daphne’s father, I’d ask her not to put my face on her blog. If Daphne was my sister, I would like to be sat at another table when out for dinner. If I were Daphne’s boyfriend, I would bury myself and hope to die a fast death.

For goodness sake, someone in Singapore please do the blogsphere a great favour. Bitch slap that girl when you see her, jolt her awake from her slumber. Such a freaking drama queen.

Please note that I enjoyed Daphne’s blog until she threatened to close it down, then opened it again and now password protect it for friends and family, for privacy issues.

I mean, if you really want to be private, don’t fucking post your photos online with your details. Keep it really REALLY private.

I can deal with her shopping sprees, Gucci this and Marc Jacobs that stories. I can even handle her ego trips. But her last few entries really paint Daphne as a pathetic and attention seeking spoilt brat.

And it is this behaviour that I detest.

And no, I was not one of those she has rejected. Didn’t read her blog for many days since its blogcide, only to return because of referals from other blogs. My, my... our young lady has apologized for turning down the requests of HUNDREDS of her friends and supporters... 'cos it's for her family and friends only.

Phhhhfff! *flips hair*

I think I will rename this entry as "Daphne Loves Herself". What do you think?


Friday, December 02, 2005
Look What The Angel At 7-11 Sent Me!!!

Convenient stores such as Seven-Eleven are perfect pit stops when you need to fill or refill. Earlier this year, my friends and I drank whiskey and vodka when the mixers ran out. Shame on the organizers because it was only half pass 11 when there was not a drop left of the two bottles of Coke bought earlier that evening. I hated drinking neat or on the rocks, so quite obviously I volunteered to purchase the lot. Plus I was also the only one who was still able to drive, I think. When I left for Seven-Eleven, my friends were dancing on bar tops, tables and stools while others were having a frenzied photo session.

Imagine the ear squats these jokers had to do if they were sent out to buy the mixers and were stopped at a road block.

I was two seconds ahead of them at the 7-11 main door. I pulled the right door open and looked for the four (or five, if I could manage them lot) 2 litre bottles of Coke at the refrigerator section, located at the end of the store.

They walked a few steps behind me and opened the door next to mine. Through the corner of my eyes, I saw there were three or four of them, tall blokes. They looked at the labels on the bottles, each giving some sort of comment. Picked up a bottle, then placed it down. Whisper, whisper, then picked up another and placed it down again.

I took a bottle of Coke out and placed it in my left arm. Took another and hugged the bottles tightly.

“Excuse me,” one of them said, “would you please recommend us to some good drinks?”

“What sort of drinks?” I asked.

“Alcoholic,” the same guy said.

I looked at them. There were three of them. Taller, taller and tallest. Damn, they were all freaking tall! And good looking. Oh yes, I checked them out and they ticked all boxes appropriately. Tall, check! Slim, check! Beautiful eyes, check! Beautiful smile, check check check!

I smiled, pointed at some vodka based alco-pops, exchanged some words with them and said good bye. I hurriedly took my five bottles of 2 litre Cokes (yes, I managed to hug them all!) and paid at the cashier. I walked out with the two bags, rushed to my car clumsily with the heavy load. I could hear them laughing all the way out of Seven-Eleven.

“Come join me,” I told them. I locked the car, walked to them and asked, "Come join me." It was a decision made in pure madness. I invited them back to the bar to join the rest of my friends and I. They laughed, thinking that I was beyond sanity. Who would invite three strangers to join them for a drinking session at midnight? Well I would and I did.

I asked them again and they realized that I was serious. They looked at each other. After a brief conversation in German, they agreed. So all for of us packed into my car and I drove the 5 minutes to the bar. I sincerely hoped they enjoyed themselves. They must have since they agreed to follow me to the next stop, Lola. Drinks ran freely here and everyone was more relaxed. Being good looking obviously had its perks. A and O had a wonderful time being chatted up by some girls. W seemed more reserve than the rest and distant himself from the many approaches. I found it quite intriguing. I mean, "Come on... hot chicks dancing around you?? Well hello?".

Then off to another dance club where we remained until it closed for the night. The place was packed with people – man, woman, girl, boy and the 0.5s (the transsexuals). I saw AB the moment I walked through the door. Got my peck on the cheek at the console and walked back to join the boys. A and O ran off with some chicks, so there left W and I at the main door when it shut for the night.

Went for supper. Chatted a little. Found out a little more about W. Through our conversations, he came across as level headed, intelligent and sweet. Through our conversations, he realised that I was actually quite sane and that I had no intention of leaving him in the middle of nowhere (which he honestly thought the three of them would end up at that night).

I asked him why did he not dance with the girls, like A and O. W replied that he had a girlfriend whom he loved dearly and missed even more. I found that so endearing. We parted after supper and I thought he would disappear from the face of the earth. A fact that I was quite comfortable with because what I sought that night was neutral companionship.

Surprisingly or not so surprisingly, we remain in contact since. We chat when possible and there are always things to talk about. Can’t divulge the details but suffice to say, there must be a friendship angel sitting between the Coke and Vodka alco-pop section in Seven-Eleven’s refrigerator because I found a good friend there.

Everybody, please say "Hello" to W.