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Friday, March 31, 2006
Men Choose and Women Get Chosen

The best illustration of love happened as I sat in a Swedish cinema four years ago. I was busy reading the Swedish subtitle as Zhang Zhi Yi walked up the hill with a pail. There I was sat at the cinema watching “Vagan Hem” or “The Road Home” in English.

It was magnificent, the moment love happened. It summarised what love is and how it happens in every single life. Zhang Zhi Yi’s character, lovelorn and aching for the village teacher, a striking handsome man, walked up the hill with a pail. She could have walked another route, which was shorter and thus ends her daily task quicker, but on that chosen day, she walked the longer route; one that took her near the school, where she could hear her love interest, the village teacher, recite poems with the school children.

She walked, looking straight ahead towards the well on top of the hill. And the teacher saw her walking up and stopped reciting. He rushed in search of a pail in the school and proceeded to walk in eager footsteps after her. A kind villager offered to do the service for him but he insisted on climbing up the hill to fetch the pail of water on his own.

She looked down towards the school and saw him walking fast towards her, with a pail in hand. By then, she had collected the water she needed and her pail was full. What to do now that her pail was full? She did nothing but poured the pail of water onto the yellow earth. She dropped the pail into the well and started to fill her pail again.

He finally arrived by the wall and they exchanged smiles.

And that was the best illustration of love I have ever witness on screen. The act of love and what one would do for love – a girl creating opportunities for her love interest to be with her and a man who would go all out to be with the one he loves.

The First Conversation
Something struck me two weeks ago while in conversation with Nikki and Emma. Emma was packing her things and putting everything away. After having spent seven years in Malaysia, she is finally moving on to something much more exciting. We were chatting and everything was going along fine when Emma looked up and said, “Do you know what was the first conversation I had with Hamish?”

We were both curious. I had known Emma for quite some years but we were never really close. We would meet, go for drinks, dance, party, chat but never really shared personal details. And now Emma was packing her bags to go for a world tour with her boyfriend of five years, Hamish. They were introduced to each other during the Scottish Ball some years ago and Emma swore the first thing he said to her was, “I have a big bike. Would you want to go on a world tour with me?”

Emma smiled, “And look! We are really going on a world tour on the big bike!” Nikki and I gave Emma a warm hug. She will be away for the next year, travelling with Hamish as he had promised her the first time they met.

Love Struck
That struck me. That was the moment of love. A feeling that is so fleeting, it could had not happened, if it was not for the right time, the right place with the right people.

I remember the first time I met Alex. E screamed as the boat touched the shore. She paddled through the foot deep water, franctically shouting my name. “Do you know how deep the water was? Forty feet deep! That’s how deep!!”

I tricked my best gal pal to go for a snorkelling trip on her own, so you would understand why she was upset then. She, then with sparkling eyes whispered, “And guess what? I met this cute Scottish guy! I think he likes me!!” E then gleefully took a step to the side and I saw this god walking along the beach. He was so tall and slender with the most beautiful tan skin ever.

The group of us (Alex, two other boys, E and I) spent days and nights dancing, drinking, eating, playing scrabble and reading together. And all through that period, I felt that every guy was after her and I was just this 5 feet 3 inches tall walking and talking lamppost. The first time Alex and I were alone, we were walking at rather quick pace through the darkness, on barefoot across a small footpath from Coral Bay, which was located on the other side of where we stayed.

I remember feeling icky as my feet touched the cold muddy earth. I remember it was very dark and we were only guided by a torchlight in Alex’s hand. I remember the moon shining that night when we were first alone. In our haste to run through the cold muddy ground, E and I were separated and I was left alone with Alex.

I remember reaching Long Beach, which was where we were staying and the moon danced as the sea rolled into shore.

“Where’s E?” I asked, “do you think they are lost?”

“Don’t worry about them. Let’s sit here and wait for them,” Alex said. He then sat on the beach, where we stopped.

“Lie on me. Don’t dirty yourself, the sand’s wet.” Alex was laid out on the sand and he reached out a hand for me. I reluctantly and then clumsily laid on him.

“I promise you this, Otto,” Alex said as I laid ever so still on him, my eyes looking at the starry sky that night, “I promise you that I will follow you wherever you go. As long as I shall live and we are on earth, I will chase after you.”

Now before you folks (especially the girls) get all mushy inside, I will be honest. I am not going to lie to you. I have heard quite a number of pick up lines in my time and trust me when I say this: Men will say anything to get their fingers into your lacy red knickers.

I mean, what did you expect me to do? Trust a man whom I just met on his promise? I thought that Alex was a sleaze bag for what he said. I mean, only a sleaze bag will use “lie on me so your clothes won’t get dirty” pick up line on a sandy beach. Did I trust a word Alex said then? Nope. Not a word!

But you know what? We have travelled through many countries together. We have gone through a lot, thick and thin and we have stuck together through those times. It took me more than four years to realise that Alex meant what he said when he first met me. It took him four years to tame my heart and for me to see with my eyes that he was here to stay. And now in my more quiet moments, I ask myself why had I not realised then, as I laid on top of him that he would protect, love and cherish me.

Now I realise that he has always loved me, even from the first moment he met me.

Men Choose And Women Get Chosen
“I love you so much and yet you went out with another guy,” he would grumble each time. That signalled the start of our inevitable topic, between my high school sweetheart and I.

“Well he loved me!” I would reply.

“That’s the thing about girls, I am telling you. You never choose who you love. The men choose you.”

That was the most revealing thing he has ever told me. That, followed by the long lecture on the flow of logic and our on-going argument on evolution.

According to high school boyfriend, girls never get to choose who they love. It is always the boy that chooses.

“What utter rubbish!” I said, my feminist self emerging.

But he was right and he is still right today. I hate it when he is right and I hate it when he grins, knowing that he is right and I have to admit that I am wrong.

You see, boys and girls - it was always the man who chose which girl he was interested in. And most girls would love someone who chose them as the object of affection.

Think about it. It is always more often than not, that a man pursues his love interest. He makes his intentions known to his love interest. A woman on the other hand, waits for men to show their affections and then choose one from the group of them.

Obviously there are also women who make their intentions known. However again more often than not, these declarations of love are the tales of the worst romance ever. Especially if the man concerned does not reciprocate her affections.

In my opinion, a woman can never influence or induce a man into loving her. But a man can influence a woman into loving him. All a man needs to do is be a true friend and a secure refuge for the given girl and the girl will slowly but surely learn to love him. Women are born to recognize love and affection and respond positively to people who nurture and care for them.

Men, men on the other hand, are not creatures that are easily tamed. It is difficult for a woman to capture a man’s heart. You cannot do good, no matter how good and expect the man to recognize you. Where men and love are concerned, it is a matter of whether he loves you. Or not.

And for whatever reason if he does not love you, you can die for him and he will not mourn the lost of you. As a matter of fact, you can cook and clean better than his mother and still, the man will not be touched by your generosity or actions that bespeaks of your love for him.

Such is man.

I Hate It When He Is Right
I would end this rather long post with the stories of my love for my high school sweetheart and subsequent love, Alan.

I loved my high school sweetheart very much. I would have done everything to be with him and I did that. We were happy together for the period of one year, when he was studying for his final year. We made good conversations and had the best of times. He left for the UK to study and for two years, he did not contact me. I waited and waited and waited for him and I cried almost every night praying to God, asking Him to bring this sweetheart of mine back into my arms.

And when he did come back into my life, this time with a bachelor's degree, again we had the best times. By then, I was studying for my Masters and we drank in the evenings and danced the nights away. When his sister was in trouble, he left me for her and went back to Sabah. So I was left alone again and I waited and waited and waited for him to come back to me.

He called me one day and said that we should break up. He wanted to remain in Sabah to help his people and his family. I went out with a bunch of friends during this period of time - a group of perhaps 8 boys and 5 girls, all of us single. I think we were out almost every evening for a period of nearly a year, having dinners, parties, swimming and naughty saunas together.

To simplify this story, I would relate only to two boys named Alan and Sun and how they both related to a girl named SC and I. SC had a huge crush on Alan while I was quite smittened by Sun's slitty eyes. SC did everything in her power to impress Alan, to show what a great girlfriend she would be and what a good catch she was. She cooked for him when he was sick. She tried to impress who she considered her future in laws, she did all the good things for him. As for I, I was all out chasing after Mr. Sun, to no avail.

At the same time, Alan would offer to fetch me everywhere I wanted. By Christmas time, we had switched cars, he would drive my measly Proton and I had his better car. He would accompany me to the library on Sundays just because I loved reading. He did all this while we were friends and not a moment had I ever thought about him because I was quite stuck on Mr. Sun. So while SC was pursuing Alan and Alan refusing to acknowledge her, I was busy trying to get Mr. Sun's attention, which was given to another girl named Cheng Cheng.

Now Mr. Sun was not impressed by my exercises of devotion and Alan was not smittened by SC's declaration of undying love. This funny spectacle went on for more than a year, though SC eventually moved on to another boy in the group and Mr. Sun paired up and married Cheng Cheng two years ago. That would only leave Alan, high school sweetheart that was missing in Sabah and I...

Alan never said he loved me but looking back, he showed it more than he said it. Sometimes women expect their men to say "I love you" but I have come to realise that many times men do not say. Men do. "You crazy? We are friends!" I would say whenever anyone asked me whether Alan was my boyfriend. Truth was, I was having such a good time being a single, I refused to acknowledge Alan as anything more than my friend.

And one evening I sprained my ankle while out shopping. I was in tears when Alan called me that evening, complaining about my sore ankle and voicing my worry that I would experience the nightmare of all dancers - that I could not dance anymore.

Alan came over that evening. He took my right foot and placed it on his lap. He massaged my ankle while I winced and made a big fuss. "You are such a baby," he said, then kissing my ankle. He smiled.

And that was the moment I knew I had to acknowledge Alan as someone more than my friend. Because he was more than my friend. I realised that he loved me and it was useless for me to deny that fact. From that moment on, I nodded my head and smiled whenever anyone asked me whether Alan and I had a relationship.

It was one weekend, when high school sweetheart returned to KL and met up with me, that he said, "I love you so much and yet you went out with another guy". Alan left me alone with high school sweetheart, to talk things over and it was then that I told high school sweetheart that it was over. I was quite tired of waiting for someone that left me for years without words and came back when he felt like it.

And I loved Alan because he loved me. Love was light and easy because he loved me first.

And So You See
Women can be won over with lots of love and affection. My most satisfying relationships (Alan, Swedish Love and Alex) were with men who loved me FIRST. Relationships where we loved equally (high school sweetheart) and a one way love affair (where I did all the loving, like with Mr. Sun) failed miserably or ended up as my most embarrassing moments in life.

With all this banter, what is it that I am trying to say? I am 30 this year (yes, that is what I am - the big three zero) and I have come to realise that it is better for me (as a girl) to choose someone who loves me deeply. It was he would loved me and I responded in love.

And that is why men choose and women get chosen. This is the one time that the battle of the sexes is never fair.

Very chuffed to be mentioned on Kenny Sia

Thank you, Kenny.

Small Talk
Damn TMnet is not working, so writing will be sporadic and spelling rotten. Bear with me till then.


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Wednesday, March 29, 2006
Motivation and the Girl

I can’t write. I typed, then deleted, then typed on a different topic and then deleted and the process repeated itself for more than one hour. I have written more than 5 serious articles in the span of the last seven days, so I need to take a break.

I give up.
I cannot write another word until I buy something. Anything. I am not choosy.

I am writing on a totally different subject today.

Today, boys and girls, ladies and gentlemen, I shall introduce you to my favourite girls. They are called Beth and Faridah and they are pimped out by a certain fashionable man named Marc.



It was two weeks ago that I whispered coyly into the phone, "Hello babs...."

"Yes?" his voice was trembling. He could sense it coming.

"Babs, can buy me a nice handbag or not?" I purred.

"How much?"

"Approximately 300 pounds only," I said quickly and softly, hoping that he did not hear it.

"WHAAAAAAAAAATTTT?! 300 pounds ONLY!?!?"

"You love me, you buy for me lah," I said.

"Babs, you so naughty! 300 pounds can bring Milo to the UK, you know... you rather one dead cow than a hairy Milo?" Alex said.

"But I need a handbag to go to work!" I pleaded.

"You always need a handbag. Or a pair of shoes. Or a new blouse."

"It is called motivation!" I pouted, "why should I go to work if not to wear beautiful stuff and look pretty?"

Do you think this statement is true?

Girls are made to look pretty
and boys are made to look and appreciate pretty.


Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Of Apostacy, MENJ and the Erotica Blogger

In the most unlikely scenario, a purportedly erotica blogger is having a conversation with MENJ regarding his recent comments on the Dutch government and especially the Afghan apostasy case.

Please read MENJ's article on apostacy before continuing here. Only then will you understand the following conversation.

Dear MENJ,

You said earlier this morning "What interest does a non-Muslim, erotica blogger got to do with this topic?"

There are quite a few, so feel free to choose one that suits you:

1. Whilst it is true that I am a non-Muslim, I enjoy reading about the various differing religions practiced. Your blog has given me some insights into Islam. I admire your convictions and stances for Islam and respect you for it but it does not mean I must agree.

2. Knowledge is prized in Islam and that is exactly what I am seeking. I do not trust in hear-say channelled thru various conversations and personally I would not trust the average person to differentiate between true laws by God and man-made ideas.

However reading your blog, I do believe that you are deeply grounded in Islam and would trust your answers. Thank you for informing me that the punishment for apostasy is death. Knowledge is always prized.

3. My interests are in seeking truths and knowledge. I favour peace and love. I want a Malaysia that is safe, where its people are productive, intelligent, progressive and a nation that is safe for its children to play together, immaterial of age, creed, ethnic or culture.

4. I am not an erotic blogger. I write about life experiences, which may include issues such as self image, sex and parent-child relationships.

You might be surprised if I say I truly mean what I wrote. Every religion has its rules and all believers must live by them.

If you live in a country, you abide by its law.

If you are a follower of a certain religion, you live by its rules.

And if the Prophet said that the punishment for apostacy is death, then everyone (including the non-Muslims) MUST RESPECT and OBEY the instructions. There is no lukewarmness in matters pertaining to faith, so there are things that you and I share common grounds.

There are two things that I have been taught about Islam whilst reading school text books:
1. Islam encourages knowledge seeking. Thus in its golden days, there were many new discoveries and advancement esp in medicine, architecture and astronomy.

2. Islam protects the rights of women. It recognize the unique qualities of women and gave women positions in society.

I am sure there are more than just two good that Islam has brought about. Perhaps you can share a few more examples?

Your blog's tagline is "Brutally honest? I like that". When I was brutally honest with you concerning SOME of your articles, you chose not to address them.

Instead of addressing my questions, you choose to either ignore or smear my credibility. Thank you for your answer, despite you not having answered. A non-answer is an answer in itself.

The words "nude" and "naked" in my blog name has more to do with the state of emotions than anything physical. I am sorry if you thought otherwise. I sincerely hope that you were here to read some of my posts before you passed such harsh and unfair judgement on me.

"Nude" as I have explained in my earliest post is defined as "looking at sex with disinterest" and I am looking at life as it is, observing and relating stories that I hope many of my readers would share and understand. I am as brutally honest with life as you are. I do not look at my world through rose tint glasses but observe life and emotions as honestly as I possibly can.

This blog is written with the intention of returning goodness to the people and reminding everyone what life is truly about - acts of love, kindness, gentleness and loyalty. It relates a lot to family life, especially father-daughter relationships, about childhood and hopes for the future.

May peace be upon you, MENJ. When the sun sets tonight, you will realise that you and I have blood running through our veins, we are both born of mothers and we are both trying our best to better the world in whatever way we can.

p/s: MENJ - when I commented on your frustrations I was trying to indirectly tell you and comfort you that I think the lady you were interested in was single and available and not married as you had ought earlier.

This conversation has been brought back to home ground because I cannot see my comments appearing on MENJ's blog anymore. Perhaps there was something wrong with his site. Anyway I hope many people will give thought to what I have said here.

I am not inciting hatred. Contrary to that, I am encouraging my readers to think. You do not need to comment in support of me. Please refrain from bombarding MENJ's site with words of hate (if there are any).

All I want is for you to spend today thinking about our future and the future of Malaysia.


Monday, March 27, 2006
I Not Stupid

“You are so stupid,” I said, “So stupid to think that those students will not trash the house!”

“How dare you call me stupid!” came the reply.

“Well if you are stupid, then you deserve to be called stupid!” I said.

I must point out that I do not normally call people stupid but yesterday morning was a terrible day. Imagine walking into a three-storey house you have called a home for more than five years and then seeing the place in absolutely shambles and you tell me whether you would call the landlord stupid.

My mother moved the family out of our family home, opting for a much smaller house closer to town. From a magnificent three storey with a lush garden for Milo to run around, she moved the family into a double storey house. Okay, I admit it makes cleaning the house a much easier task for the maids and it has made mealtimes more convenient but my dream house was beautiful.

I had such wonderful times in that house, living alone on the third floor with a living room of my own, en suite bath to my bedroom and a spare bedroom for visiting friends. I loved the garden and had wonderful dinner parties for friends every alternate month. Not to mention the time when I organized a wine party and E konked out in the living room and I did the obligatory girlfriend duty of dragging her three floors up into my spare bedroom. (I don’t think my parents would appreciate seeing her slurring when they get up at 6 a.m. for their walks).

“You know we are never going to move back into that house,” said my father.

It does not matter if we are moving into the house or not. I mean, my heart broke the moment they decide to rent the house out to a bunch of Saudi boys studying in the nearest college. My bedroom is defiled by the stinky boy smell and no longer smells of me. My black corner tub, where I swam and paddled about each evening for more than five years is now the bank containing all the jerking off activities by the boy who slept in my bedroom. It is more than enough to turn me off and I will never feel the same way I used to in my bedroom again.

It mattered to me because the place was so beautiful and now it is in ruins because they have rented it out to a bunch of rich students. So what if they are rich and they drive luxury cars? They are still bloody students who organized disco parties in the ground floor living hall and dining area every Saturday night!! The dining table was still out in the garden when we visited the house with the gardener yesterday morning.

And so I screamed, “you are just bloody stupid to rent to the boys. Of course they say there are only six boys staying in the six bedrooms! Who is going to admit to squeezing the whole neighbourhood into the 6 rooms!”

“Stupid idiot!” my mother screamed. She was hurling abuse at me that morning when I came downstairs many months ago. Perhaps it was more than 3 years ago when this incident happened.

“You are a stupid daughter! Useless! So stupid, stupid!”

“Stop calling me stupid! I am not stupid!” I screamed back at her.

My father lifted his eyes from the newspaper and said, “Stop shouting at each other.” He then looked into his papers again.

“What kind of daughter are you? So stupid! Don’t listen to me. Keep disobeying!”

“I am not you. I have never been you and I will never make the same choices like you did. You are not a happy woman now that you are in your 50s. Why should I make similar decisions like yours and end up miserable like you when I am 50?” I screamed.

Those words cut deep. I knew it did. That was why I said it. So she ran towards me and clutched me by my shoulders, shook me and repeated, “You are a stupid daughter! Stupid idiot, that’s what you are!”

“Stop calling her stupid!” boomed through the white marbled living room on the ground floor.

“She is my daughter, I can call her stupid a thousand times. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupiiiiiiiiid! You shut up, this has nothing to do with you!” my mother told Alex.

“Stop calling her stupid!” Alex sounded stern, “You are insulting ME if you call her stupid!” He stepped up to her, a six feet tall European breathing down my mother’s five feet tall Chinese neck.

My mother rallied for my father to help her, to defend her against the hairy white man.

“Stop calling your daughter stupid, “ said my father, “she’s a grown woman, you can’t call her stupid. Of course Alex feels insulted. Now stop it.”

“Come. Mummy look for the toy for you,” said PY one afternoon when I was at her place for a visit. She looked through the drawers at the prayer table, sifting through some pile of papers, looking for her daughter’s My Little Pony. It was nowhere to be seen and beads of sweat was crawling down PY’s forehead as she walked to the kitchen in search for the elusive plastic pony.

The scream came and then the sobs. PY’s father rushed to the kitchen to see what happened. PY patted her daughter’s little fingers as the girl screamed more. In her haste to search for the toy, PY accidentally clipped her daughter's fingers between the drawer as she closed it. The little girl was wearing her white singlet and a pink polka dot panty, jumping and clutching her right hand fingers. When PY’s father rushed into the kitchen area and saw his granddaughter crying like a slaughtered pig, his grandfather instinct kicked in.

“Oh your mother is so stupid!” He rushed and carried his two-year-old grand daughter away. “Your mother so stupid all the time, make you cry.”

And I saw PY standing there, with her eyes closed.

“Oh stop it!” PY said in a high-pitched voice. It was breakfast this morning when her three-year-old daughter, down with mild fever, took the cup of warm Milo and placed it close to her lips.

“Aiyah...” PY’s voice said in dismay a few seconds later, “why you so stupid?” Her swift motherly hands took some wet wipes from her red Furla bag and dabbed them onto her daughter’s thighs, where the drink has spilt.

“Come on, PY,” I said, trying to diffuse the situation, “it’s just a little Milo.” I took some tissue from my Tods and reached out to the little girl next to me.

“There, just a little. Aunty Otto help you, ok? “ I said, smiling to her, “it’s nothing right, baby?” The little girl smiled and nodded.

I looked at PY. She knew what I was thinking. We have had this conversation many times before this. She should not call her daughter stupid. She calls her daughter stupid so many times, it is like the little girl’s pet name and it was not good for her to grow up with such negative words. I looked at PY. She knew that I was telling her the same thing again – “Don’t call your child stupid.”

“Nothing is good enough for you!” I sobbed into the pillows. It was another battle between parents and daughter and I was losing this time because I was the first to cry.

“Nothing is good enough for you. I am your stupid idiot daughter, not good enough for you. Not pretty enough. Not tall enough. Not smart enough. Not fair enough. Not smart enough to get rich boyfriends. Not adorable enough nor sweet enough.” I said, words chocking out one by one.

“Who said you are not good enough?” my father said.

“You two!” I hissed at him. I grew up being compared to everyone’s children and each time, it was I who was not good enough. I grew up trying to live up to my parent’s expectation and like all first borns can tell you, you are never good enough. (Then like most parents normally would, they have their second born, third and perhaps even a fourth child. Then they grow tired of comparing with their friends’ kids and cease doing so. Therefore later siblings get let off easy.)

“I know who I am,” I said between sobs, “and I know my destiny and I know where I will be and I know I will go far. Further than anyone else you will ever know.” My heart ached as I said those words. I knew who I was and I still do till today. I know how far I will go in life. But right that moment, I was a child once again, vulnerable and aching for acceptance by my parents. Even as of a few years ago, I would have teary conversations with my parents about this. I was tired of trying to catch up with everyone else, being compared to everyone else and losing each time, in the eyes of my parents.

I wanted to hear my parents to say two magic words: “Well done!”. Just those two words and I know my spirit would fly. Not “Tina’s so gorgeous, her face is so fair. You should use more whitening products,” or “Daniel is working for big company in KL” or “Jenny is so smart, married rich man, who bought a nice house for her parents”.

Because all children want to hear is “Well done, darling. I am so proud of you.”


Thursday, March 23, 2006
Of Animals, Regression and the Beast

We are worse than animals
Some say what differentiates us humans from animals is that we are able to create machines to help us in our daily lives, create complex language patterns to pass information and store history. Mankind do certain things repetitively and these activities are absorbed by new born babies and accepted as part of our ‘culture’. The list goes on and on, extolling the virtues and greatness of mankind but what we failed to mention is that mankind possesses the ability to lie.

Not only do we lie to others, to deceive others into believing what is not necessary true, we are the privileged lot because we are able to lie, even to ourselves.

And why do we lie? We lie to protect others, we say. I personally feel that we always lie to protect ourselves, even when we think we are protecting the person we lied to. At the end of the day, each and every one of us is selfish. If we were not selfish when we were born, life taught us to be selfish. And we lie and we become selfish to protect ourselves from others, from disappointment and from pain.

And so we, mankind, different from animals, because we are able to lie to protect ourselves. Now tell me - if it is possible that you not lie for a second - tell me, are we worse than animals inhabiting the Earth?

The Deep Shit
Have you ever looked at yourself in the mirror? Have you looked at yourself in the eye and search deep within yourself? I am not talking about surface questions, such as evaluating your life, what is good, what is bad, what your weaknesses are, what are your strengths. I am talking about the deep shit, the sort that makes you ponder for days and days, wondering what was right and what went wrong.

I am a thinker, so therefore I think. Or rather I think, therefore I am a thinker. And I do not like what I think these days. I have been looking at myself in the mirror and see lots of things in my life that I rather lie to myself.

Life is supposedly divided into clusters of seven years each, according to John Gray. And at each stage of our lives, we were meant to learn something crucial to ease us into the following stages.

  • First seven years
    What many psychologists, teachers and doctors believe to be the crucial years, the early years which form our world and what we understand.

  • Next seven, between the ages of 8 to 14 years
    Traditionally the school going age, we spend these years playing tag, chasing friends, flipping girls’ skirts and developing friendships.

  • Next seven, between the ages of 15 to 21 years
    The teenage years spent with cliques and peers who share similar interests and activities. We develop a lot of our perception, opinions and personality at this point.

  • Next seven, between the ages of 22 to 28 years
    Again traditionally the age for many to join the workforce, we spend our 20s forming friendships with work mates and developing our careers. Mentor friendships are excellent to help us along our career choices.

  • Next seven, between the ages of 29 to 35 years
    This is the favourite age for forming lasting love relationships and bond. Most of us would have settled down to domestic some time within this cycle of seven years.

  • Next seven, between the ages of 35 to 42 years
    These are the years spent with our new family, nurturing and caring for the children we share with our love partners, formed from the previous cycle of seven.

  • Next seven, from the ages of 43 onwards
    From caring for our children, we move on to caring/loving others in the community. This includes caring for animals, the elderly, the infirmed et al.

Failure to learn from any stage will result in regression into the previous. This would explain why I had the following conversation with my family doctor on my 27th birthday.

Otto: Doctor, I want to ask you a question. Is it normal for me to feel like a 22 year old?
Doctor: Do you feel sick?
Otto: No, I feel alive and happy. But I am worried because I don’t feel my age at all.
Doctor: How old are you?
Otto: Today I turn 27 and I am wondering if there is something wrong with me because I don’t feel old or 27 at all.
Doctor: Just as long as you are healthy and happy. It is fine feeling like a 22 year old. It’s healthy. My goodness, you are a big girl now, aren’t you? You don’t look 27 at all! (pats me on my head, like he used to do when I was 10)
Otto: Yes, uncle. I am quite old now. (sighs deeply)

My late teens and early 20s were totally fucked up years. I spent it growing up way before my time, carrying burdens that I should not have carried and responsibilities that normally would have been shouldered by people who were much older.

And now in my late 20s, more than two people have asked me, “Where is your elder sister? There, the one who drove the blue Proton,”. I would smile and reply, “That was me, ten years ago. I’ve changed cars.”

On hindsight
The only thing good resulting from the fucked up years, if I must mention something, is all that I am today is a direct result of who I was back then. The things that I had to swallow and face made me what I am now, all my earthly possessions, my memory and even my book project, all of them stem from that few years of absolute misery.

While others were out getting drunk every night, I was building my business. And now while everyone is struggling in their career choices, I have mine quite settled. And while everyone was studying in college, I had completed my Masters and now that everyone is trying to get their Masters, I am out painting the town a deeper shade of purple.

My high school years
I remember being the quiet one in high school. While everyone was out partying with the boys (I came from a French convent) I was in church praying and doing the Christian thing. Friends were decked out in their finest jeans and shoes while I was the nerd in flowery cotton dresses.

My parents were teachers and they made it clear to the kids that they could not afford the Beverly Hills lifestyle. University education was not a luxury, it was a necessity. It was our ticket to a better lifestyle. Because my parents were teachers, they could not give us all that we wanted when we were teenagers.

What I hated when I was a teenager but heard frequently coming from my mother’s lips: “Your friends wear Levi’s and Reebok now. But remember you will be the one who would afford all those pieces when you work. Not just one pair but so many pairs, you will never be able to fit them in cupboards.”

And like all mothers in this world, my mother was right.

The thing about beauties and the beasts
I think life is fair. You see, our class monitor was rather plump and studious. She had curly unmanageable hair and glasses as thick as her dictionary. These days, she is beautiful. Literally beautiful.

And then there was the clique of girls who thought they were the coolest girls in the school. They had it all – the boys, the shoes, the cool look, the bag – and they made sure everyone knew it. These days, they still let everyone know that they bought the shoes, the bag and the same group of boys from high school, recycled from one girl to another. But unlike high school years, girls are getting smarter and realised that not all is rosy when you got the bag, the shoes, the everything. There is a sacrifice to be made for every choice made. Latest expensive things on a shoe string secretary budget only means one had sacrificed other areas in life, kept tightly locked in the privacy of their rooms.

Then there was the smart girl, the one whom everyone thought would be the most successful. She was the straight A-s girl, the one who clinched every freakin’ title in competitions and the very same who was the head prefect, chief librarian, counsellor etc. These days she works in an insurance firm as an agent. I guess sometimes scholarly success does not necessarily translate itself into success in the big bad world out there.

And of course every high school must have the reigning spring queen. My year sported a pint size girl, so tiny like a little pony, with a small petite frame and an even smaller waist. She was the dream for boys for miles and miles in radius and each year during Valentine’s, she would receive more presents and flowers than the whole school combined. She now works as a flight attendant in SIA. She still has a small frame, smaller waist and yes, that includes the biggest boobs in our form. Some things don't change.

There was Miss Bitchiness, a whole clique of them. They felt like the world owed them, just because they were they. Children of lawyers or doctors or politicians or business people. Some made it big, with parental support. Others were mediocres, playing PA to some big shot.

And where were the Mr. Bitchiness? Well the last I heard of them, some were working for Goldman and Sachs in London, others were again engineers and doctors somewhere on earth. A few asked me, “So how are you related to them?” when I was standing next to E at our Chinese New Year reunion. “I am their classmate,” I replied, punctuated only with a smile. They were quite flabbergasted and you can guess for yourself the reason why.

But of course in every school, there are smart ones who succeeded and lazy ones who did not. There were ugly ones who became beautiful and the swans in high school became fat and tired ten years down the road. Some of them were nobodies in high school but now hold positions and play golf with the big boys. Others were somebodies then and now are nobodies.

Life is a box of chocolate. You never know what you are going to get. And when you feel down and think that you are a failure in life, remember, remember, never forget. All of your life is not a regret.

Stare yourself hard in the mirror and learn to tell yourself truths. And when you do tell yourself truths, learn to love it.

Small Talk
My first article was given two thumbs up at the editor's desk. Now all I need to do is complete the next five.

Darling pair of black leather pumps and shocking red patent pumps, mummy is going to rescue you from the shop soon, ok? Let me finish these articles and I will have you home, sitting safely next to your cousins and siblings from Aldo and Pedder Red *muah*


Wednesday, March 22, 2006
The Death of Blogs

It is the 22nd of March 2006. Six months ago exactly I started Nude, Not Naked after reading the much hyped, most talked about thing on Star. It featured Minishorts and Kenny, Hot Babe and I think one other person that I cannot seem to recall at this moment. It felt fresh and interesting and like the million others reading the article, I set my own space. I can't call it a blog because it was never meant to be a blog technically.

However at that time, I wrote NNN as a writing practice and received comments from good readers out there who were kind enough to respond to my every article. At a certain point in time, I realised that I had to separate NNN: The Book Project and the rest were classified and moved to a new turf, aptly named About Nude Not Naked - just because it dealt with the rest of me.

There were up times and then there were down times. Looking at the blogs lying about in the vast space, I can't help but noticed that Death will be visiting blogs soon. When I first began reading Malaysian blogs, I consumed everything that came along my way. I read from the serious to the downright hilarious. Developed quite an appetite for blogs by the third month mark. By then too, I had changed ANNN - contents and looks.

So to mark the six month anniversary of About Nude Not Naked, I shall gladly present my opinions on the various blogs out there. Read on, if you dare.

I had to skip xiaxue because she was literally teaching me bad vocabulary. I promise that is true. Her blog is so littered with hokkien swear words, the blog's more foul than your local wet market's aunty selling fishball and salted vegetables.

Children, listen to me! Thou shalth not read xiaxue! It's blasphemy to the English language.

I have problems with the way she presents her 'commercial' ventures. I mean, everyone needs a rice bowl or two but goodness, I'd appreciate some class when seeking for sponsors. Maybe she should try asking Kenny Sia for some tips?

Her legion of fans also irk me. Sometimes I wonder if these people possess some amount of taste and intellect. The only saving grace for xiaxue is that she whores herself so shamelessly, JLo should have her hired to promote her Jenny-on-the-block line.

I am still reading Minishorts but this is one that remains at borderline category. I mean, I find her writings thoughtful but I absolutely abhor times when she rants about her pass with friends and ex-lovers. And oh, I feel uncomfortable whenever Claire talks about the following topics:

  • Conversations with her mother about her down there - I mean, didn't her mother give her "down there" a proper name?

    And it's called PRIVATE PART for a reason. It is private and should not be a topic of conversation between family members during Sunday lunch. Especially when you are 26 fucking years old.

  • Conversations wtih her mother about relationships - I mean, give Eric a break. What are you trying to do? Guilt force Eric into marrying you?

  • Sex - I have very strong opinions when it comes to sex and sadly Miss Khoo and I are not on the same footing.

  • Her rants about pass friends and lovers - My gawd, she just goes on and on about everything on her PSM days.

  • Her PMS excuse - PMS, my ass!

Don't even get me started on FireAngel. Seriously. What is so the fucking great about her? Perhaps I am being harsh here but you like a blog because the girl's cute? Man, the whole blogsphere is littered with pretty chicks. I don't know about you but she has a certain look that is pretty, from a certain angle. Yes, FireAngel with the dimples looks cute. Otherwise YC is way cuter and Joyce, the sexy fairy has a nicer pair of assets.

You like her because she has 'fire' written between her middle fingers? Well some people call it crude. Especially when overly done. And what else has she contributed to society other than her middle finger poses and Harajuku styles?

And what is this about the toilet meme? Whatever happened to good blogs?! Have we washed our linens, clean and dirty in public so much that we do not have much more to say, other than personal toilet habits? I do not want to know how you fold your tissue three squares at a time before wiping, douching and then wiping again.

Then again, I wrote about public toilet habits some weeks back.....

Eventually I gave up other sites for whatsoever reasons, including 5xmom, Ah Pek, Sixth Seal, Shaolin Tiger and KY. There is only that much of food reviews and funny entries I can take.

What I do enjoy six months on are KinkyBlueFairy, Black Jetta, Suanie, Fuckstress, Looney and Kenny Sia. For many varied reasons, these people put lots of thoughts into their blogs. Even funny entries are well thought out, so there are never embarrassing "foot in mouth" moments.

Most are happy blogs about their lives and it is always fun to take a sneak peek. Fuckstress oozes charisma when she rants while Kenny is just trying his best, like he did in the 40 km marathon. Every life is a story and the story is about one's journey.

Joyce the sexy fairy, forever cheerful and adorable. I have seen her in real life and she was such a joy to observe. I did not approach her or introduce myself because I think it is intimidating to have a stranger introduce herself as, "Oh you are Joyce, right? I sooooooooooooo love your blog!".

I like Looney being wicked with the girls. I can imagine myself tormenting his poor soul *wicked wicked librarian grin*

The drama queen of KL, Damansara and some say Melbourne, YC is just wonderfully human and for that, I like reading her pieces. Never failed to make me smile.

Suanie. What can I say? I love this girl. If I am to vote for my favourite female Msian blogger, I would vote for Suanie one hundred million times over, just because Suanie is Suanie. If I were to choose a date for Valentine based on online persona, I would date Suanie on Valentine, Christmas, Easter, Raya, Diwali, St. Patrick's and every other occasion imaginable.

I have thought of blogcide, that I must say. What a redundant exercise I have been doing for the pass six months, writing and lurking around the blogs of others. I do not have the authority to write "How to make your blog a success" but I most certainly can write "What you should not be doing, if you want to be a famous blogger" because I am doing all the things that I should not be doing.

When I first started 6 months ago, PPS was pinged every minute! These days 30 minutes can pass by without a decent ping and I struggle finding something good to read. So now I herald the death of blogs and the soon death of mine.

Small Talk
Irony is the way of life and as it turns out, I might be dealing with the fact that FA is actually Fuckstress minus her middle fingers and photos showing her drinking out of a straw. Well well well... what does that teach me? Never judge a book by its cover. Or in FA's case, never judge a girl by her finger =P

I must point out at this juncture that one should not assume that I HATE those that I mentioned not being particularly fond of. Far from it, I do not hate them. I might disagree and voice my discontentment in rather loud opinion on my 6th month anniversary but that does not mean I would not sit for tea with Minishorts or have a round of beer with FA.

However I make no apologies for liking Fuckstress and not FA (even if they are the very same person). I just like one persona better than the other. Just like you might like them more than me. I'm cool with that. Are you?


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Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Of Torque, Gear Sticks and Accelerators


Rejoice with me as I celebrate my first paid article. I was so excited about it, I jumped out of bed two hours earlier than the appointment and played dress up. Went for the appointment and looked at the three assignments available.

“Why can’t you let me write about shoes instead?” I asked, hands shivering after reading the assignments. I laughed, then shook my head. There is no way of backing out now. I have to do this assignment, it is my golden opportunity and I must rise to the occasion.

I found out that minute that I am to write about cars. Here is the catch - I have not a clue about cars other than it (often time) has four wheels. And oh, the crucial bit - men wet themselves over sleek, sexy ones.

First of all, I do not have a clue what the terminologies I have to use. Torque, in my mind, is this handsome, tall, slender, tan skin Craig David lookalike, with freshly shaved face and nice locks for hair…. So first task is to acquaint myself with the new words. Make friends with them because I will be using them for the next few months.

My swift consolation is that I drive well. By this I mean, I drive both manual and auto extremely well. I make big cars, small babies, sweet things and fast racers purr as I cream the accelerator. But above all of that, I am a speed babe and my heart is like that of a lion's. Come on, who else but me in my Proton would dare race a BMW (a cute driver in the spanking new babe magnet) down a tight dual carriage every now and then?

And perhaps if all goes well (meaning: the editor likes me) and I do enjoy writing about cars, I might just squeeze a small column for myself some day? Say “Otto for Motorheads” if you want to read about a sexy girl gently caressing the gear sticks of even sexier cars.

So test driving, here I come!

Photo courtesy of Alan Khoo.


Friday, March 17, 2006
Idle Paws And Breakfasts With MiniBoyFriends

"Aunty," he said, "Want to go for breakfast tomorrow morning?"

"What time? I need to go to work to print more documents," I said, balancing the mobile between my left ear and shoulder while painting my toe nails last night.

"This time we follow your timetable lah,"

"Okay, half eight morning, it is then," I replied.

"Wah aunty..... why so early?". He was laughing when he said that.

"Then? You said you follow my timetable what!" I croaked, "Okay, how about 9 a.m. then?"

"Set lah, aunty... see you then!"

Come 9:00 a.m. this morning, R has not called and I have called him instead. He did not pick up his mobile. Must be showering, I thought to myself. I was ready - ready to conquer the world (doing my errands in flats because I cannot walk in 3 inche heels anymore this week) in my sweet pink top. What is it with girls and pink? I do not know. I like pink. I love pink actually. And deepest shade of purple.

I am beginning to realise a trend here. I thought I was lazy and complacent at work but in actual fact, I am really efficient and I cannot tolerate people who are slow. For example, slow drivers. Please shoot me if any driver in front of me drives slower than 40km/hr. Better yet, shoot that guilty accident inducing driver!

Oh for that matter, this guy who was supposed to deliver a catalog to me last week. Two Mondays have since passed and I see no catalog on my table. This morning I sent him a sms.

"Hi ***. Don't want to nag you but where the hell is my catalog? I feel like Superman, wanting to fly to save the world but can't because my favorite red underwear is missing..."


But back to this morning, R missing and it was way pass 9:00 a.m. I usually have my breakfast with PY and another colleague of hers but I cancelled this morning's session, opting for breakfast with MiniBoyFriend, R instead. Without much to do and no one to annoy, I decided to toy with my new Ixus.

MiniBoyFriend finally replied my call at half pass nine. And by 10:40 a.m. I managed to squeeze in two sausages, two slices of bread, two egg whites (no yolks) and a cup of ice coffee into this tummy of mine.

Each time I have breakfast with BestGuyFriend (BGF for short), he would ask,
"Where on earth do you store all the breakfast you gobble down (you greedy little pig!)?"

I really do not know.


Wednesday, March 15, 2006
Otto's Two Tits

My Lovely Humps
Today is the first day I have had in days, where I just sit on my little humps. Ah the luxury, I have almost forgotten the sensation of SITTING. Been running around so much about town, trying to complete the various errands... My errand isn't getting any shorter but I have decided to give myself a rest.

I bought myself a cute little camera. Alex has been gracious and loaned me many of his boy toys, including his Ixus. I bought a new one over last weekend, when I saw a promotion somewhere. No more shaky photos! Yay! I am very pleased with my purchase. It makes me feel almost all grown up. You see, I am not a electronics buff... neither am I am computer geek since I am not familiar with the terminologies. But buying this camera makes me feel all grown up and responsible for something that I cannot trash around the house as I so please. And for once, I have something to share with Alex instead!

So chuffed with my Ixus55! I am sure I would have many pleasant hours toying with it.

Fed up not being able to produce really cool images without the help of my love, I have decided to go through the CS tutorial. (Was amazed by what YC did for her header two days ago). And after 2 hours of playing around with the software, I would like to present my very first art work.

*drum rolls*

Tadada! Do do do remember that this is my very first time and it is childish (I know). It is light years away from YC's manicured images.... but I will suck it all in and try harder the next time. Feeling quite proud of myself actually.... *laughs* See, I am easy to please... honestly... I know it is not perfect but hey, it's my first go.

My English Garden
I am domestically challenged. Did not know how to boil water until I was 18 and did not know how to use a washing machine until I was 24. Grew up with maids trailing a few steps behind me and picking up all my rubbish. However being away from my maids taught me a thing or two about independence and to this day, I very much prefer cleaning my own stuff.

Last summer was beautiful. Alex took me to visit many gardens and manors doting the Kentish hillside. I learnt the many names of English flowers and even had my little patch of English garden. I sat in the sun reading or did some weeding while I waited for Alex to come home for lunch. After lunch, without fail we sauntered over to the 15 feet by 3 feet of garden and observed the progress on our little love garden. Once he returned to work, I went about watering the garden with buckets full of water...

The cutest fairies stay in my garden.

I adore my garden. It gave me a sense of belonging and I can't wait to return to my English home to see what pretty flowers bloom this coming spring. Alex wrote that the 100 bulbs I planted last year (planted 100 bulbs and have to wait 6 mths to see them - almost like a full pregnancy) are blooming. It also taught me the value of patience since I had to wait for months before any of the seedlings see the light of day. Perseverance in caring and tending the garden is crucial when I saw no results for months!

Sitting at home for 6 months brought Alex and I closer than I ever thought possible. I did not know that it was to be such a life changing experience. As I have mentioned earlier, I am commitment phobic and getting me to slow down my career/social life for a man is unheard of... Alex and I have been together for three years before this and still, that was how I felt.

So being a mini home maker, cooking, cleaning the house, taking time to read, tending the garden, watching the birds at the bird table and such, made me realise that there is so much more to life... and I shouldn't try to bail out of every relationship, no matter how good, whenever I feel that it is going deeper than I was willing to go.

Big Tits Everywhere
Alex got me a bird table, filled it up with assortment of nuts and seeds. Two birds fed on it within the first week and I was so thrilled to see the birds that I insisted that Alex get me a bag of peanuts and a bag of those lardy nuts. Alex bought a book for bird watchers and encouraged me to identify the birds that came. And did them come in packs! There were tits (don't laugh, tits are the most common English countryside bird, similar to our pipits in Malaysia) of all shapes and sizes! Grey Tits, Great Tits, Blue Tits, you name it, them tits were at my yard!

And since you are most likely a pervert who came to this entry because you wanted to see my big tits, here is a photo to satisfy your peverse needs.

Inner Thoughts
Just received an email from Alex. He delicately phrased his comments on my first attempt.

"Hmmm, still a little room for improvement I feel"

I miss Alex.


Tuesday, March 14, 2006
Love, Hugs and Kisses

The Mad Race Against Time
Mad. It has been a mad, mad day as E and I raced our applications through the postal services. It has been mad days filling up the forms, photo sessions that brought peals of laughter to PY, E and I... and the video recording session - I am as animated as most MTV VJs, dang!

Time spent in the last few days
  • laughing = 10%

  • bumming around at Starbucks = 3%

  • making fun of each other = 6%

  • serious thinking = 81%

Tension mount at 1000 hrs today, as we picked up the final copy of our video recording.... Nick (what a sweet soul) edited and converted into DVD at the very last minute. Bless his soul for helping us!

We then raced to CitiLink, where the sweet lady
  • commented that E and I looked similar and wondered if we were sisters.

  • that they cannot guarantee that the parcel will reach the destination by tomorrow midnight.

  • suggested that we give DHL a try because no one knows Asia better than they do.

There was sweat and tears as I pressed the pedal and drove us to DHL. Reached in new record time of 20 minutes. The door had a funny chime that continued chiming until someone open the door. A lady with the most brown and beautiful eyes received us at the door and we proceeded to the counter to discuss our amazing dilemma - the courier MUST arrive by tomorrow midnight.

A gentleman joined her and together, they discovered that they were not able to receive the parcel because it was to a P.O. Box address. They phoned some other companies and this includes Pos Malaysia. All courier services were unable to deliver to any P.O. Box addressed. Pos Malaysia was willing to send but the parcel will be sent on "sender's risk".

E was negotiating as I raced back to the car twice, once to retrieve my mobile and the other to pick up remaining documents. "Can you guarantee the parcel will arrive no later than Wednesday, 15th March midnight?" E asked. The sweet lady was busy on the phone, trying to confirm whether DHL could guarantee the delivery. On top of this problem of posting our application on time, we had to deal with the fact that we could not post to the P.O. Box address, not without a telephone number.

Consequently I suggested that we get someone to check online for the phone number. The guy was kind enough to offer doing it on the spot for us. And it was at that second that we found out that the application date has been extended.

What utter relief!!! I just could not believe what I heard and had to walk into the counter to see the computer screen and see with my very eyes! YES YES YES YES YES!!! I jumped up and down, so excited and happy that there was an extension. I swear E and I developed additional wrinkles at the corners of our eyes by 2 p.m.

The DHL delivery costs RM97.10 to Singapore and RM171.70 to Hong Kong, by the way. And the lady was kind enough to advise us to take the afternoon off, relax and plan which courier service to hire. What fantastic customer service! I am a DHL fan forever because of the kindness of these two strangers, who were happy and supportive of application.

The Reward
We were so happy, we shared a pizza, a lasagne and 12 pieces of KFC nuggets. I had an additional bowl of mushroom soup - comfort food. Reminds me of the time when E and I used to attend step classes twice a week, followed by a visit to the pizza shop for a large Hawaiian Pizza with extra, extra cheese................

"You go down first and place our order," I said as I stopped my car in front of the little mamak shop.

"No, we have to go together. The Amazing Race requires team mates to complete tasks together, so we have to start practicing now," E replied.

Now that is the most original excuse I have heard for girlfriend companionship.

The Break and The Coming Days
Took the afternoon off and relaxed for meals with E. I felt so chuffed with the recent development that I could have shopped but then again, I promised myself that I should control this "spending to feel good" habit of mine, so I did not buy a single thing (other than the moisturizer and SPF15 that I actually needed).

Spent the evening watching and chatting with E. I have not sat down for a TV session for such a long time, it felt like luxury to me. Came home at 10 p.m. because I thought it would be nice to update this blog a little =)

"We'll take some more photos over the next few days and tweak our application, ok?" I said over the phone.


"Let's take tomorrow a break. We'll start on Thursday," I replied.

I could hear the sigh of relief over the end of the line.

It has been a long, long day. I had other errands to run today, which included visiting my family doc for a course of Zovirax for my maid who is down with Chicken Pox. Visit doctor no fun, not even if he was dashing.

More photos coming out in the next few days, so keep your eyes pealed to this page!

A Big Thank You To
  • Jack who printed new copies of the forms for us. He was so sweet when he shook my hands and wished us all the best for the race.

  • Uncle and Aunty Fuji shop who helped us develop the photos we needed urgently. Placed our request on top priority. Got best wishes and warm smiles from them.

  • Nick and 2 of his employees who generously opened the shop earlier to accomodate our special SUPER URGENT order. Nick took time off between serving his customers to make a special cardboard envelope for the DVD.

  • CitiLink Girl who gave us two thumbs up and gave us the best advice to her knowledge. She sent us to DHL!

  • Mr. and Ms. DHL who unceasingly helped us with the many phone calls (even to Singapore HQ) to confirm our delivery. Their amazing ability to help us sincerely really show us that there are people out there who are still willing to lend a hand to those in need of assistance.

Small Talk
If you have been religiously catching The Amazing Race Season Nine, you would realise how cheeky Jeremy and Eric have been. There was one incident where they commented that they are nice to the girl team "Dani/Danielle" so that they could get into their pants and in the same episode, remarked how attractive another female competitor was, with her bf being the turn off.

"What would you do if guys say such things abt you, E?" I asked. I answered my question seconds later, before E could.

"I would be the one who makes such cheeky comments, not any other boys" I said.

E laughed as my feminist side stirs on.


Monday, March 13, 2006

Filling up the forms for The Amazing Race requires dedication! E and I spent the whole of today just tweaking our entries... we had to rush, run, beg, plead, be cute, bat our slitty eyes - all in the name of last minute conversion to DVD, some recent photographs that needed printing, passport photo of E and filling up the forms (makes SPM seem like a breeze!) Thankfully we managed to complete everything required and the parcel is on its way! *yay*

The whole process taught me a thing or two about my friendship with E. There are still things that I learn about her every day! That girl still spring a couple of surprises every now and then.

Reflecting on the application process, it doesn't really matter if we get through or not. To be honest I am more prepared for it not getting through and it is okay. This whole business of video recording ourselves and filling up the forms brought tonnes of laughter to PY, E and I. And that will be a sweet memory for a long time to come.

Here are some photos from today's session.

And this is how we warm ourselves up each leg of the race....

There will be times E will carry me through... and other times when I will carry her load... and that's how we will share The Amazing Race experience.

Me and my shadow.


Tuesday, March 07, 2006
The Key

I am listening to Out Of Reach by Gabrielle (on loop) as I am writing this. Listening to this song brings back a gush of memories both happy and sad. Memories that were sinful and yet pure. When you hear Gabrielle sing, you can feel her heartbreak and that is the same heartbreak I felt with AB.

So confused
My heart’s bruised
Was I ever loved by you?
Out of reach, so far
I never had your heart
Out of reach, couldn’t see
We were never met to be

So much hurt, so much pain
Takes a while to regain
What is lost inside
And I hope that in time
You’ll be out of my mind
I’ll be over you
~ Out Of Reach, Gabrielle

Can you just feel her pain? Can you feel my pain? There are days when I think of AB and there are days that pass without thinking about him. The good that 2006 has brought me is that I do not think of him quite as much as I used to. He is happy, I know he is. "I got to hold the lighting this time," he whispered into my ears just before I left for Phuket. I was in Lola and he came over, whispered into my ears and gave me a carress across my arm.

Some days I hate him and wished that he does not exist in my life. Those days I wished that he would not call me ever again, so I can finally move on with my life. Those are also the very same days that I was too busy to think of anything else other than work. Or the glorious days that I spend with Alex.

And yet there are days that I hate myself even more than I hate him because I feel like a fool. I feel stupid for wishing deep in my heart for him to call me. I changed my mobile number when I came home from the UK last September, just to be able to be free. I would be free because he could not call me anymore for walks or talks or watch him smoke a joint session or whatever. And when that happened, what did I do? I walked into his life again (because I cannot bear the thought of not being in his life or have him in mine).

Just to see him smile again and to hear him breathe.

To see the smoke drift above my head into the ceiling.

To see his weaknesses and strengths.

To admire his courage and perseverance against the odds.

To watch him dream, watch him feel frighten of his dreams and hopefully one day, watch him achieve his dreams. Because he deserves it.

To just be myself when he is around.

I saw his girfriend's brother while out on Saturday night. My heart grew excited when I told it specifically not to. Wherever this brother was, usually AB would be close by. Them lot came in a pack, so if girlfriend's brother was around, chances are so would AB.

So I looked, let my eyes wandered and I wished wished wished that somehow his hands will gently trace my bottom just the way he did for many years. When that did not happen, I imagined him sitting in the porch with his girlfriend, drinking and laughing, hanging out with the rest of the pack.

So confused
My heart’s bruised
Was I ever loved by you?

"Do you love me?" I ask him. Every time when we meet, I would ask him that and each time, he answers, "Yes, yes, I love you. I love you from the beginning and I am still here after five years".

If he were standing in front of me now, I would ask him again, "Do you love me?".

I imagine him inhaling smoke and then exhaling with "You know I love you. We have been together for how many years now?"

And just like Jack Twist, I can hear myself scream, "Then tell me how many times have we met this year? Four? Five times?". I would break down and cry. Again. And again and again.

"So tell me," I asked him one night. It was Tuesday, his workmate's rest day, which was also the day that I would accompany him in the DJ console. With less crowd, he was able to spin whatever his heart fancied. Usually it was great House, one after another, making my heart dance. And we would, gently circling each other, looking into each other's eyes and etching the slightest smile. "So tell me, what song reminds you of me?"

"This," he said, then giving me a peck on my lips. He gave me a warm hug, turned to the decks, chose a CD from his bag, slotted it in and the song descended the whole bar, light and airy. He turned to look at me when the chorus played, blinked his eyes once slowly and smiled.

Made a wish, I can dream
I can be what I want to be
Not afraid to live my life
And fulfil my fantasies

I learnt a lot of tricks to help me live my life
You helped me find my paradise
When you came I saw

Sunshine through my window
That's what you are
My shining star
Making me feel like
I'm on top of the world
Telling me I'll go far

Reaching out, for the highs
You inspired me to try
I felt the magic inside
And I felt that I could fly
I'm looking at the world in an optimistic light
You made me appreciate my life
'Cos when you came you were my... (sunshine through my window)
~ Sunshine, Gabrielle

These two were only the beginning. There were more songs to come as the years pass by, songs that remind me of him, songs that reminds him of me, songs that reminds us of us... songs that we danced to.. flirted with... laughed at... songs that he taught me to dance... songs where we innocently touched each other... How time has passed us by and at a blink of the eye, we are older...

"Then tell me how many times have we met this year? Four? Five times?". I would scream.

"You do not know how it feels to be me! How lonely I feel and how much I want you to touch me," I would snarl. Angry and frustrated, I would fight my own feelings.

I am glad that I do not think of AB much these days. Today I drove pass a bench by the lake. It is just an ordinary bench to others but to me, it's a lifetime of memories and secrets. AB and I spent countless hours, first talking and knowing each other. Then laughing and understanding each other. Then hugging and feeling each other's warmth. Then kissing and leaning on each other for comfort and strength. How many secrets did the bench hold?

I have spent too much time fantasizing that he would open the door to my house. I would have given him a key and he could come over anytime. And I imagined too many times we would do what most couples would take for granted - sitting on the couch and watch TV, discussing the American Idol results, cooking and sitting down for dinner together, grocery shopping in Tesco, letting cold water run down our bodies as we stand under the power shower, hands feeling every sensation as they run along each other's body...

And holding each other's hands as we close our eyes to sleep.

It never happened. The door never opened. I have never given the key for fear the door would indeed open.

He has a set of keys. It is just not mine.

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Sunday, March 05, 2006
Community Service Announcement

Everyone, please take note of Nude Not Naked's first ever Community Service Announcement.
Help us find the best firefighters for Malaysia.

  • To raise a squad of super firefighters that are well equiped.

  • Because Malaysia Boleh!
    - much love to Suanie *muaks*

  • Print three copies of this announcement, preferably using sticker paper.

  • Stick the announcement six feet from the ground in available urinals.

  • Replace announcement regularly.

  • Forward this announcement to every single friend on your MSN/hotmail/gmail/friendster/etc list.

  • Ask them to repeat the instructions above and soon we will have good looking firefighters zooming in big, red fire engines.

To forward this entry to your friend, please copy and paste the following:

Now girls, stop giggling. This is a VERY SERIOUS announcement.

Small Talk
Perhaps I should nominate Kenny Sia, seeing that his dickonorsaurus is as famous as the rest of fabulous him?

* Find out how you can purchase this t-shirt from Scarlette Ting.


Saturday, March 04, 2006
Holy Hovering Hovercraft!

Decided to pop into the shopping mall today. E is away with her beloved (hairy) macho boyfriend somewhere in the jungle again. PY is with her hubby and I can only take a maximum of two hours of domestication before running for dear life. Loitering about alone is a far better option than shopping with girlfriend AND HUSBAND (and kid) in tow. I love kids but trust me, whatever shopping craving you had the morning you stepped out the door vanishes as soon as the child screams for attention (and one diaper change and two milk bottle feeds, plus endless stopping so the tall toddler can jump in and out the stroller). Some days I like to play good, loving Aunty Otto. Today just was not one of those.

Tried on probably eight shades of beige-gold eyeshadow on my left hand before deciding on an aqua and a green. Bought Glamour UK edition and scooted my bottom to Starbucks. Was greeted by the staff and sat down with my tall raspberry frappucino. Skipped the first three quarter of the tiny magazine and dived straight into the fashion section.

My 70s hair flick is now a little long. Hairdresser must love me because I am her most frequent customer (I like to think). Yes, I definitely need a haircut. There are so many new smart styles out for spring/summer 06 and it is amazing how I can visit my hairdresser every three weeks maximum. I cannot live without my hairdresser. Or for that matter, the girl that washes my hair.

Ohhhhhh massage, massage... I imagine I would grip the arms of the black chair tightly and intermittently I would flex and relax my grip as the fingers move in circular motion. *meow*

Am excited for tonight. It should be fun and I bloody ought to go out before cobwebs start growing in you know where... my shot glasses are gathering dust, turning into a morgue for the six legged! I need a drop of vodka and perhaps seven more after that.

Went to the toilet. I mean, can you actually drink a glass of those frappucinos without? In amongst the group, I am known as Small Bladder... and this is already me with the improved and trained bladder (had to hold a lot when travelling). Waited in line behind two girlfriends, busy chatting and laughing. A cubicle soon was vacated and I pointed out to the girls, who shook their heads. I shrugged and entered, passing the lady previously occupying the cubicle. No wonder they did not want to use, I mumbled to myself. It was a seated toilet, with the toilet seat up and the sound of water flowing in the next cubicle.

So this is what I did - in case boys out there are curious - turned around and unzipped my pair of trousers. With a 2-inch zip, unzipping was a swift task. So swift it was that the Great Swifty would have been proud. Balanced myself and aimed properly (yes, girls have to aim too!). Or at least I aimed. You see, I was hovering above the seat. Not actually sitting on the seat, but hovering. I am not keen on catching some nasties if I sat on the off white cracked plastic seat that was probably sat on by more than 20 people in a day for the pass three years or so.

So there I was, hovering on the seat in my three inch pink pumps from Aldo. Steady. Yes, gently does it. Oh yes, this is how it is done...

Wait a minute!


That lady before me..?


She hovered too cos the seat was up when I entered. Damn, she was heavily pregnant! I placed my two hands on the cubicle wall to support myself as I pondered upon it while hovering on the toilet bowl.

Holy Mother of all girls who hovered on the public bowls!

My salution to her hovering skills. Albeit on flats but with a tummy that huge, it must have posed quite a challenge.

Many a second later, I zipped up and left the cubicle having more respect for pregnant ladies out there.

Girls who hover, hands up! Do you sit? Do you squat? Do you hover like me? Do you have a quirky toilet habit that no one knows about? Come on, time to confess....


Friday, March 03, 2006
Wicked And Lazy
I'm lazy when I'm lovin', I'm lazy when I play
I'm lazy with my girlfriend a thousand times a day
I'm lazy when I'm speaking, I'm lazy when I walk
I'm lazy when I'm dancin' and I'm lazy when I talk

I open up my mouth, it comes rushin' out
Nothin', doin' nadda, never, how you like me now?
Wouldn't it be mad, wouldn't it be fine
Lazy, lucky lady, dancin', lovin' all the time

I-I-I-I'm wicked and I'm lazy
Ooooh, don't you wanna save me

Some folks they got money an' some folks lives are sweet
Some folks make decisions an' some folks clean the streets, now
Imagine what it feels like, imagine how it sounds
Imagine life is perfect an' everything works out

No tears are fallin' from my eyes
I'm keepin' all the pain inside
Now don't you wanna live with me?
I'm lazy as a man can be!

I-I-I-I'm wicked and I'm lazy
Ooooh, don't you wanna save me

Imagine there's a girlfriend, imagine there's a job
Imagine there's an answer, imagine there's a God
Imagine I'm a Devil, imagine I'm a Saint
Lazy money, lazy sexy, lazy outta space!

No tears are fallin' from my eyes
I'm keepin' all the pain inside
Now don't you wanna live with me?
I'm lazy as a man can be!

I-I-I-I'm wicked and I'm lazy
Ooooh, don't you wanna save me

Lazy when I work, lazy on the bed
Screamin' all you like, but it only fades away
I'm lazy when I'm prayin', lazy on the job
Got a lazy mind, a lazy eye, a lazy lazy father

Hard men, hard lives
Hard keepin' it all inside
Good times, good God
I'm so lazy I almost stop!


I-I-I-I'm wicked and I'm lazy
Ooooh, don't you wanna save me

I-I-I-I'm wicked and I'm lazy
Ooooh, don't you wanna save me
~ Lazy, X-press feat. David Byrne

Nikki's coming home. She has been away for almost two weeks, to sort out her bits and pieces with PWC. I am sure that BGF is glad that she is back and this time, for good. This time Nikki will tell BGF, "I love you long time" and mean it without having to fly 13 hours back to Manchester.

Super Yay! Two girlfriends are definitely better than one! And tonight as the sun sets, my whole universe morphs into swirls and flashes of colours - to a space and time where I feel I could live forever. I tried explaining this sensation to others but I am sure that they did not comprehend the magnitude of the feelings I get inside. I would not be suprised if they think I took some illicit drugs and see those swirls of colours. But no, I do not need any to see splashes of light dancing along people and things.

Or to feel like everything is passing by me at the fastest and yet slowest speed; where I feel as if I had achieved higher consciousness. Some moments are so strong that I feel I am emitting vibrations and each touch or bump transfers some amount of vibrations or hormones.

Which is why I think I am addicted to AB. Many months were spent accidentally but seductively touching each other as we moved around; be it to dance and wiggle wiggle, to stand by each other, to walk from the table to the console, to bump into each other in our hurry to go somewhere etc. I swear I could feel electricity flowing from my body to his.

Anyway it is Friday and I am excited. Put on my best dancing shoes and head into town. I have been worked wayyyyyyyyy too hard. The regular crowd is calling for back-ups since Chinese New Year when I sort of disappeared from the face of the earth – if earth had only parties and vodka sessions.

Small Talk
R is now conditioned to salivate each time he sees me because I am now associated to the blessed water from Heaven. I sent him a text message asking what he was doing over the weekend and all he could think of was vodka. Damn!


Thursday, March 02, 2006
Jessica Simpson in The Amazing Race?

SMS conversation between E and I late last night

9:00 p.m. 1st March
E: Coffee during lunch hour?

Otto: Alright. See u noon then.

9:30 p.m. 1st March
E: We're joining the Amazing Race. Get ready.

Otto: Haha, who? We 2? Aren't you traumatised by singing in d Sony contest n the dance we did for the Campfire? Hahaha.. it'll b fun, won't it?

E: Come on, it'll be good 4 us n we're interesting ppl. Sign up together k.

Otto: Yay, u find details n I'll sign with you. Yay! It'll b fun. Wanna wanna? We'll talk abt it 2moro.

E: Find out details online. Me no internet @ home.

Otto: Check where? Give URL at least, babe. So how?

E: Don't have URL.

10:30 p.m. 1st March
Otto: Damn it. Googled n checked. U sure wanna join?

E: Of cos we are. Adventure, babe.

Otto: Nd video ourselves explaining y we r PERFECT 4 d race. Deadline 15/3. Taping mid yr n lasts 40 days. Lots of rules.

E: Come on, we're great together. We'll do it together.

Otto: U must b kiddin. LOL.

E: A pair like us is perfect 4 d show!

Otto: U set d words n we'll talk abt it 2moro. It'll be fun, m sure. Or we hav another story 2 tell whn old. MUAHAHAHAHA...

E: Scripting. We wear *** outfits thn change 2 racing outfits k. Hehe.

Otto: Hahaha, I can't believe this. Will we b kinky n all? I nd hair wash. N some *** outfits. N perhaps some guts and a sense of humor. Knw which shop sells them? Talk more 2moro k.

12:30 a.m. 2nd March
E: We nd a video camera.

Otto: With Alex. How how?

E: Borrow camera, HAH! Discuss 2moro. Tired thinking abt it oredi. Nite n c u 2moro.

1:45 a.m. 2nd March
Otto: I'm going in with open mind. I'm going in with open mind. I'm going in with open mind. It'll b fun. It'll b fun. It'll b fun.... *reassuring myself*

E: Haiyoh, just 1 video only mah. Put on ur thinking cap 2 mk us get in tts all! Worry abt d rest ltr if it happens la.

Otto: Get this 1st part done, get us in n think later. It'll b adventure of lifetime. C u 2moro.

Today lunch time in Starbucks
Sat down in front of E. She was surfing for more information on the Amazing Race Asia. She had a serious look as she digested each and every rule and regulation for The Amazing Race Asia Edition.

"So this is how we are going to plot it," E said, then explaining her scripting, "and we'll go to all our favouite bars and clubs, ask strangers whether they'll watch The Amazing Race if we were on it."

"We can get DJ*** to announce it this weekend and video the whole thing with people screaming yes they'll watch Amazing Race if we're on it," I said as I recalled teatime last week when DJ*** repeated "E is so hoooooot!" perhaps a million times over. Am sure he will be more than willing to do this for E.

I winked. E laughed, then blurted, "Oh yes, we can get the rugby boys to do the same - Watch E and Otto on The Amazing Race."

I pointed out that participants were often categorized into the geeks, the dumb blondes, the bitches, the agrressive lot etc. You do not see Plain Janes in any of these reality TV shows. There must be chemistry between the participants. I have also considered what the show might actually do to our careers because I can imagine myself cussing a lot. Especially while driving. I am private as a person and privacy becomes an issue for me. I am sure E has her own issues as well, if we were exposing our every pimple and pore across the TV.

Conversation went on for more than an hour as we went through the rules and regulations.

"I hope the auditions will be in Singapore," E said. I looked puzzled, took a sip of the ice latte as she explained.

"We'll have to pay for it," came the reply.

"Oh E, I'd rather it be everywhere else. What will we lose? We'll just go for a holiday! We've always done that anyway," I said.

E agreed. We have not gone to Hong Kong, Taiwan or Indonesia, so who cares if we have to pay? We would eventually go through the countries in coming months/years anyway. Won't lose a thing by trying.

"We make a good pair, come on. We're ***," mentioning our similar profession, "and we've been friends forever, it'll be nice to see if we would eventually quarrel under stressful conditions. Or we'll end the race as bestest friends."

Few seconds later. "We are watchable, physically good looking and fit, funny and amusing. We speak good English. We are smart girls," she went on. Three seconds later she added, "Plus you swear a lot."

"E, you are really selling us, aren't you?" I asked.

"The video session is for us to sell ourselves and let them producers know that we will make the show watchable." E shrugged her shoulders, feeling so complacent as if this was something that happened to her every day.

"So who's going to be the ditzy blonde?" I asked, "Perhaps one of us should end the whole video by saying, "Do you think we'll break our nails?" or something totally Jessica Simpson".

We took a walk and did some window shopping. E needed a pair of nice sandals for her rugby sessions with the boys, so we were in Adidas, Puma and Royal Sporting House, looking for the elusive pretty sandal for her. I repeated, "Do you think we will break our nails? Do you think they'll let me bring my curlers?" every so often while giving my best Jessica Simpson on a camping trip impression, much to E's amusement.

It all started on 31st December 1999. E and I were at the dinner table, having our New Year Eve dinner with our partners. When it came to the obligatory question of new year resolution, somehow I said that E and I should try all the things that we would normally be afraid/shy to try. And the new year resolution was the perfect reason for us to do all the things that we never dreamt of doing or experimenting.

And oh boy, have we come a long way.... see, we are still keeping our new year resolution 6 years on! All we need now is the video camera and hell, we'll give it a go. What is the worst that can happen? We don't make it... big deal. At least we have something to laugh over dinner for years and years to come. Something that we can tease each other, just like the time when we sang for a Sony Contest when we were both 14 and danced in a campfire when we were 15.

"Do you remember the time we made The Amazing Race video?" I can just imagine us slurring this phrase during vodka overdosed nights.....

Small Talk
Woah, hold my pretty horses.... E is known to be excited about a particular topic and often does not complete her tasks. Personally my mind wanders so fast, I often catch myself thinking two thoughts while conversing with her in Starbucks *hahahaha* So all this might just be NATO - No Action, Talk Only. Do remember, we still have to find a video camera....

Wished it was the same for the petrol hike. Why is the government so efficient in things that its citizens do not want it to? *smiles* Honestly I find the price hike a pain since my income does not mirror the new cost of living. However I understand the government's need to reduce its subsidy. How is our government going to build us nicer schools or make better roads, if it continues to subsidize the Mercs and Bentleys?