About Nude Not Naked

Himbos
Stayed in Concorde with PY keeping me company last Wednesday. Met up with a few more friends over dinner and off we went to Zouk. Do not have much to say about Zouk other than, “sheer disappointment”. It just did not feel right and I can’t quite place my finger on it.

Perhaps it was the two boys who swaggered to our sides. PY and we chatting and having a good laugh at the bar, stuck between some hairy men to my right and the service bar to my left. Just plain intelligent sometimes, standing next to the service bar.

Anyway soon came these two boys, erm I mean men, wearing casual white shirts and denim trousers. They whispered something into each other’s ears, then like a pack of wolves, they came walking towards us, girls.

“Cheers,” said Number One. I do not even remember his name but Number One wore a swanky watch but had balding spots on his head. Plus three points, minus five, equals negative two points. That did not look good.

“So what do you do?” he asked again. It was his 2nd try in less than 5 minutes.

“We shop,” I replied.

Number Two joined in, making the whole area more intimate. PY rolled her eyes. I leaned over and asked her what was the matter.

“His mouth stinks!” she said.

I shrugged and laughed. PY and I continued chatting away, leaving Number One and Two out of our conversation.

“You are good friends,” Number One said again. His 3rd attempt. One has to admire his determination to converse.

I nodded my head and gave him a sincere warm smile. Number One then said something about childhood friends and asked us what we shopped for the day. PY felt insulted when he asked if we were wearing the stuff we bought earlier in the day. I muttered something along the line that we were not.

An hour later, when we gave up the Zouk scene and were too lazy to do the Heritage Row, we crawled our asses back to the hotel. I was so relieved to be able to wake on my feet again, instead of my kiasu 4 inch heels.

“What sort of people would ask if we were wearing our shopping conquests!” PY asked. She was annoyed.

“They are himbos, babe,” I said, then giving PY a squeeze around her neck. We were staring at ourselves in the mirror. Not a flick of make-up on our faces. My eyes were blood shot. I hate looking so uncool drinking.

The Himbos – the male equivalent of the bimbo, these are eye candies who should never open their mouths. They are best looked and never heard. At least the bimbos have risen and are now making tonnes of money pandering to men’s skewed perception of the fluffy puss (ala Paris Hilton) that is frail and needs protection. I am yet to see himbos making it big this summer. Or even the next.

I took notice of Alex the moment I saw him carrying Guns, Germs, and Steel: The Fates of Human Societies by Jared Diamond. Prior to that moment, he attempted to chat with me a few times but I was never interested. Not until I saw him sitting in the cafe, reading the book while sipping on chocolate and banana milkshake on a hot afternoon.

I so love intelligent men!




Jumping Plane
Being the good girls that we were, we were in bed, chatting until we fell asleep at approximately 1:00 a.m. I struggled sleeping that night, having a swirl of nightmares. My subconscious was working overtime. They were nightmares about losing Alex, which always ended with me awoken while chocking for air.

I do not dream much about Alex. I dream of everyone else but Alex. But that night had me waking up so many times and I did not like it one bit! Finally dragged myself out of bed at 7 a.m., showered, made up and had a gorgeous breakfast with PY before taking the walk to the embassy.

I was stripped of my mobile and camera when I entered the second gate. PY had to sit at the first sentry point, just under some shady trees, without much of a bench to rest her pretty lasered face. I walked into the consul, armed with financial arsenal. Bank slips to proof income and savings and a house grant as icing on the cake. Was feeling rather cheerful, mainly because I loved the pair of shoes I was wearing that morning and the 1 glass of orange juice, 2 hash browns, 3 sausages and 4 cold slices I had for breakfast.

I love gorgeous and ultra luxurious breakfasts dot com!

A young girl directed me to counter 2. I soon chatted with her and found out that she was also applying for a visa to the UK. I informed her that a visa is not necessary for tourists visiting the UK for less than 3 months. She then told me the story of how she got booted back to Malaysia on the first available flight just a few weeks ago. The British immigration officers suspected her of "jumping plane".

"Jump plane" is a term that is coined and used by the many illegal immigrants who entered the UK as tourists, jumping off their homeward bound flights and remained in the UK as illegal immigrants.

I nearly fell off my chair dot com! I then mumbled something about catching the BBC news which was repeated to death on the huge TV hanging in front of us and proceeded to excuse myself from her company. I really need my visa and I was not going to ruin my chances by associating myself with a suspected plane jumper.

She went in two hours later (her being number 4 and I was the last at number 6). Even with the door closed and the interview held in private, I could hear her speaking in Cantonese. She had requested for a translator and the whole interview was conducted in another language, not English. That and perhaps her cheap pair of slippers spelt her doom.

I did not have the heart to tell her that perhaps she should have considered dressing up for the interview. I have found that it has always helped to be well dressed, for interviews such as the one we were both attending. Borrow if you must. Financial and education status aided my application a lot, I am sure.

By the end of my 15 minute interview, I had the interviewer in stitches (yes, I charmed her with my silly remarks about feminism and men/women relatioinship). I walked to KLCC, into PY's company and was in a celebratory mood.




Confirmation
We celebrated my visa approval with delicious yummies in Manhattan Fish. Precisely 4:30 p.m. PY drove us to the MCA building (where the application centre is) and I collected my visa and work permit. The lady who interviewed me 15 minutes before lunch time had informed me earlier that she would approve my application and that I could collect my passport, along with the shiny sticker in it. Thus me walking around KLCC with PY, saying "YayyyyyyyY!".

I saw the same Jump Plane Girl standing by the door, with the other five other candidates. I submitted my receipt token and had my name called ahead of theirs. I knew my results prior to lunch time, so I walked up to the counter at ease, feeling absolutely delighted to see my shiny UK visa sticker. On the way out, I asked Jump Plane Girl if she received her approval. She said she is yet to know the answer. Walked away from the MCA building, totally happy that the whole grueling process was over.

Therefore, boys and girls, my arrival in London is confirmed. I am so excited about this as I look forward to earning some pounds instead of measly Malaysian Ringgit. You are right. My taste buds are getting more picky and I need my shopping fixes.

To the two bosses - Boss Lepton and Boss Stewie - and Mae, here I come!




Tags bimbo smart girls woman women men man boys plane jump+plane immigration illegal+immigrant London UK embassy Britain England pick+up+lines Zouk club Guns+Germs+Steel nightmares BBC KLCC visa Lengmou