About Nude Not Naked

“Oh you like it like this, is it?” he said, then snickering a little.

“Stop it. Fuck off!”

There I was struggling to free myself. There were pushing and shoving, then there talking. It all seemed too lustful and too confusing at the same time. A mixture of courtesy and tangled politeness, I was trying to break free from the embrace of a man I called my friend.

Three seconds before, I was looking at a sample of products. Five seconds then after, he had a grin. He would try again, to tease and to gauge for a response. Will I? Will I not?

What is lacking in a longterm relationship was this very second that I am writing about – the most primal instinct in mankind, where all your senses are perked and you pay attention to the smallest detail of a blink of the eye or the smell of sweat and perfume mixed in a heady concoction. Where time blurs into nothingness and yet it moves at a great speed. Waiting for no one.

We were friends. We are still friends, I guess. But that few seconds blurred the friendship line a little more. Do your friends treat you this way? Do you treat your friends like this? Do you end up in an isolated office? Do you ask him to fuck off and take his hands off? Do you tell him that you are not interested in a quick shag? Does he mean it when he tells you that he loves you? Do you believe him or believe Alex’s “men will say anything to get a lay”?




***
This post is now private. Please email me if you wish to read the rest of this entry.






Tags love lust sex confuse courtesy polite relationship tease friendship friends stupid sensation pleasure change addiction addict drug flirt happy happiness bungee+jump faith

To Bill and everyone who emailed me with sweet bon voyage messages.


~ How Men Are, Aztec Camera.
A very meaningful song for a Monday morning when you think about love, men and relationship.



Lyrics
"It's called love
And every cruelty will cloud it
And his lie
True love could never allow it
'Cos it's a lie that we have ceased to believe
We've said goodbye but it won't take its leave

Why should it take the tears of a woman
To see how men are


P-E-R-S-P-E-C-T-I-V-E
It's no mystery
What you don't know always gets you
It will hurt you and desert you
So you'd better see
That it's a damage ever done by degrees
And some will take eternity to believe

Why should it take the tears of a woman
To see how men are

'Cos love is a giving with no need of return
It lends itself to everything
And maybe one day man will see
That love is a lesson money never taught us to learn
Love is the power to act
Without the premise that there's nothing for free


And sometimes when we're just getting by and getting along
It's like we're scared to see that something is wrong

Why should it take the tears of a woman
To see how men are
~ How Men Are, Aztec Camera



***
The whole weekend has been an excuse to party.. to say good bye for the summer.. to purge our souls of secrets we never told...

Someone said he loved me.
Someone said he lusted for me.
Someone said she will miss our girlie talks while I was gone.
Someone did not bother to come at all.
Someone cried.
Someone laughed.
Someone looked and thought how life was before New Year 2006.
Someone wished that it did not change.
Someone was glad that it did.
Someone avoided me to avoid the conversation.
Someone wanted to start a new conversation.
Someone confronted and someone let it be.
Someone strayed and someone was free.






Tags man men woman women love true+love mystery cruelty tears summer good+bye secret girls girlie talk New+Year lust conversation strayed faithful unfaithful free

~ The Scientist, Coldplay

I know I am blessed.
As Boss Stewie has mentioned in the comments,
my readers have been absolute darlings,
supporting and encouraging me on my way to becoming a professional writer.

It has been a 100% support from you and for that, I am truly in debt.

It is to you that I apologize for the lack of juice in the pass few weeks
while I sort out my annual migration to the UK.

Love,
Otto






Today is Friday and I can officially say that I survived the week, post MENJ and post Penguin vs Tiger. I am tired beyond repair and I realised that I am never going to London unless I just pack and go.

And that I did.

It is the same routine each time. I do my ticket shopping, asking for the price from a few travel agencies, feel totally disgusted that it is not as it used to be (as compared to say, 1994 and pre-Bush vs Sadamm), storm out of the place and go home defeated and dejected. This will of course, go on for weeks to the point where my boyfriends (started with Swedish Love and graduated to Alex) will literally abandon me in the hope that it will make me go there sooner.

And there is the thing about work. I mean, how am I suppose to leave everything for a few months without really trying all the knots that have a knack for untying itself? So it is the same routine every year until I am fed up of trying to finish my work and tired of shopping for a bloody ticket at the cheapest possible price. And at that point in time, I’d just run into the nearest travel agent and say, “Just give me the cheapest ticket you have to London,”.

Yesterday was such a time. I have the date fixed on the 1st June and that is just that. No more delaying. No more trying to tie the knots. It is me flying on the 1st June and now everything else has to revolve around this fact.

I think my writing suffered during this whole period of shopping for a ticket at the cheapest price and trying to arrange my business events for the next three months in advance. I know it did and Ian did not disagree with me, so I have double confirmed that I did (am fishing for the L word from Ian - hahahaha). And now I am sat in my portable office (bedroom) writing an article about writing.

Decided that this will be a relevant topic because I know some other blog writers will agree with what I have to say next. Plus I really want to tell you guys this anyway, so stick with me for a while.

I have been meaning to tell you that the whole process of writing reflects on the writer. Ya, ya, sure you knew this already. But do you really understand the magnitude of what I just said. I am saying that whatever you read often reflects on the thoughts of the writers and despite the myth that some writers are gods in the making, we are in actual fact, quite human.

All writers suffer from stress, like you do. We have busy days, just like you. Sometimes we are ecstatic and you feel our excitement through our words. Other times we too, feel down and out. You will know that too, won’t you? Like all other things in life, we have spurts of growth and then there are moments when we are stunted or heaven forbid, we regress!

Some readers have high (and unreasonable) expectations, without realising that we are just human. In the pass week or so, I have read at least two blogs where the writer(s) have specifically mentioned that writing was not an easy task to perform, especially on a consistent and daily basis. And definitely not to the high expectation set for them. I empathise truly.

Some days we cry and we are sad and you cannot expect us to turn straw into gold, like Rumpelstiltskin. What I have realised a year ago when I started reading blogs and what I am merely suggesting to you right now, is to understand and perhaps even appreciate what the writers are going through – the ups and downs of life, which is then reflected in their writing.

Whilst improving our writing skills are crucial for our growth, I sincerely hope that readers out there be a little more understanding to the plight of the creative, who more often than not suffer from one form of depression or another (I will explain why this is so at the end of this post). If Kenny and Lengmou would kindly oblige (well tough luck now, since I have already mentioned you both) they will serve as a good illustration of what I am saying here. If you do not already know, then I shall inform you that writing funny stuff is not easy. It SEEMS easy but trust me, you will grow old trying to figure something funny to say.

Now humour is a tough one. Tough because it is often moulded by personal taste, is highly subjective and is tied to its cultural surrounding. Take Phua Chu Kang as an example. Alex does not find Ah Chu, Rosie, Maggie or her husband funny. Not so much so that the characters are not funny, but for the fact that Alex is not from around here and thus, does not understand what’s so funny about Ah Chu being kiasu (trans: keeping up with the joneses).

Now to the comments, which for these two blogs come in by the dozens and sometimes the hundreds. I don’t know how they are able to keep up with the who’s who in the comments section and patiently reply to most. Nothing quite fucks me up than reading a “eh that’s no funny. Try harder” in their comments. I mean, come on, what do you expect Kenny to do? Make you laugh everyday? I know he is famous for his coconuts and perhaps a soon to be more famous big bird, but can you expect that man to keep writing FUNNY POSTS every freaking day?

Or the two bosses to be funny during their exam week?

And for this simple reason, I don’t do funny.


(Please a moment to digest what I have said thus far. Spend a few seconds to think about it again before proceeding to the next paragraph.)


Perhaps we should be a little more appreciative (read: appreciate Otto, Lengmou, Kenny and the burnt out writers) of the little efforts each of these writers (read: everyone who blogs consistently, which includes the infamous MENJ) put into their respective blogs each and every day. We are trying our very best. Some days are just best-ER than the rest and that is how life is.

Now for a more personal perspective of the writing process, I shall talk about writing About Nude Not Naked and the book project. One of the reasons why I am feeling quite relaxed these days is because I have discovered the secret of the universe – how to be happy even when I am sad.

I am the sort of person who takes myself rather seriously. So serious I take myself that my comments in funny blogs are serious. How serious can you get? Anyway, being the thinker that I am and the serious person that I am, I cannot help but to revisit my past. I probably do it a million times each day! I analyse what happened, right up to the very words used, dissected for secret information and subconscious behaviour through body language blah blah blah.

I suffer from over-analysing myself and pushing myself too hard. I am tough on myself. I am my worst critic. Okay, I love myself but I know when I should be honest with myself. And I was often sad because I feel that I have failed myself badly. On my life scorecard, I gave myself Ds and Fs. Not really nice results, huh? Then one day, I realised the truth about life and living. I might not understand everything about life but I know that in life, everything beautiful is born out of pain.

Stories all over the world have a specific format and the secret to being happy whenever I am sad lies within it. You see, a story becomes a story when it has three parts.

• Introduction of key character.


• Key character faces problem.


• Key character overcomes problem.

And what we commonly know as a “story” is in actual fact, an account of how a key character (the hero, if you must) overcame his problems. There is a always a good side and a bad side, a black and a white, a Darth and a Jedi.

There is no story if there is no problem and there are no storybooks to read if there are no heroes who suffered some form of trouble. Now knowing this frees me from the perception inlaid by my parents, which is to be perfect, to be the best, to be the THE in everything.

My logic simply flowed that I would have no story to tell, if indeed my life was perfect and that I was blissfully happy. Now again, my trusted readers, do not take my word for it. Analyze what I have just said. List down 5 books that you can think about. Done? Okay, now go through the basic premise of each story. Got it? Now tell me if you have found a book that was not about overcoming something and often that “something” was in fact, a form of pain (be it emotional, mental, spiritual, physical etc).

How many hours did Michaelangelo poured into the Statue of David before it was complete? The answer is a little over three years. How much blood and tears were shed? I don’t know but I can imagine quite a few drops.

What about the Mona Lisa? It was stipulated that the famous painting of a lady with a secret and faint smile took four years to complete. There are tonnes of examples and I could go on and on but I think you get what I am trying to say here. All things beautiful is born of pain and a story is only a story when the hero encounters and overcomes his/her trouble.

Consequently I no longer sweat the small things. I realised that these were the very things that helped me to write. Inspirations came from being broken and from sadness, tears, frustrations and fears. The whole world celebrates pain, if you really think about it. Most perception of beauty involves sacrificing comfort – lengthening of the neck among the Karen hilltribes is a good example.



Now that you have spent more than five minutes reading this post. I guess I will have to conclude within the next 330 characters (equivalent to 80 words). Ready? Here goes...

All that I am trying to say is perhaps all that you read, both the good and the bad forms a premise for the story of the lives of many people. From the funny ones to the drama ones to the sick in the head ones, each day you visit a blog and partake of the writer’s life stories. Celebrate the happiness and empathise with the sadness, for these are the very things that separate the legends and the forgotten.





***
Small Talk
This article is written to celebrate and appreciate fellow writers/bloggers who faithfully update their blogs and poured their tears and sweat into their blogs.

I shall be arriving in London on 2nd June at 0555 hrs. I would like roast duck later that day. What say you, Boss Stewie, if you are not too busy?
***


Tags friday Jassminne penguin shaolin+tiger London Bush Sadamm travel shop shopping blog blogging write writing human god stress depression Rumpelstiltskin life humour humor kenny+sia funny lengmou MENJ secret universe happy sad statue+of+david michaelangelo mona+lisa Da+Vinci pain tears beautiful legend legends



p/s: Due to a technical error (read: Otto clicked on delete button!) hence loosing 2 comments that was originally found along with the deleted post. So I have taken the liberty to copy & paste from my email (the copy of comment sent) Boss Stewie's and Kuek's comments.... since Boss Stewie's comment was quoted. TQ.

2nd p/s: Anyone knows how to DESIGNATE what address we want each post to be?

~ Goodnight Moon, Shivaree
Listen closely to the lyrics for this post's hidden message.




I know my posts suck in the last two weeks. I know I am not writing at my optimum best and I am not writing what I am good at – relationships - or so I think I am good at. I am hanging in limbo at the moment, with half of my next four months packed into a box and a backpack. I have a whole new set of facial cleansers that I fear I’ll lose in midair. Airplane pressure does strange things to your feet and your cosmetics. And watch batteries for my watch died on me upon arrival in London on the last two occasions.

This feeling of neither here nor there is nothing new to me. I have travelled this way and lived this way for the pass five years. Even Milo, my puss has gotten used to me coming and going. I sit in my bathtub, thinking and reflecting. What have I achieved in my life, what do I want out of my life and how I am going to achieve it? I love going back in time and relive some moments of my life.

Like last Monday, when I was on my way home with a flat tire. 100meters to my house, a familiar silhouette appeared in the opposite direction. I swear that this shadow is carved into my heart forever. It never fails to make my heart skip a beat.

As his car approached mine, I could see his eyes and how intent he looked. His girlfriend was sat next to him, looking to her left. He looked to his right and into my car. He stole a glance and smiled a knowing smile. Our paths crossed and then it was lost again.

He had a mop of dreadlocks. Clocks all over the world have moved a million times and he still had his serene grin. There is something boyish about him; his t-shirts, jeans and Adidas shoes.

I could write a million stories about him but I guess there is no use of doing so. It would all begin with, “he used to”. What is the use of “he used to” when he no longer is? What is the use of writing a whole book about him? It will not help him. Neither does it help me. Perhaps I could immortalise a small part of my life but what will I achieve?

I would be nothing more than a lovesick puppy, thinking about a person who does not think of me. He used to be mine but now no longer. I do not know if I had him for two seconds or perhaps three years. I know however that we could be great friends but never great lovers.

So that is that.



The Good
The constant question I ask myself is, “Why are there so many men?”. I am surprised that no reader has asked me this and I am not sure if there were readers who were beginning to question. Perhaps I am just an introvert and I think far too much for my own good. But yes, even I have asked myself, “So Otto, where are there so many men in your life?”

I know the answer to this question. There are men who break your soul and then there are men who would mend your heart. Some men rolled along and robbed me of my life and I waited years before some men came to save my soul. I am sure that through my stories, you are well acquainted with some of the men in my life and how they shape me into the person that I am.

The one person that I do not talk about much is Alex. You are greatly mistaken if you think that I do not love him. I love Alex to bits. I am very private about my relationship with Alex because I love him. What we share is private and I do not like people interfering in it – be it with smart comments or nasty gossips.

I think I am a very private person in real life. I do not know how I am to part with some measure of privacy in favour of a blog now, a newspaper or magazine column within the year and a book by the next. Not many around me know me as one who has a boyfriend. The general public sees me with so many boys that they cannot keep track of who is who. I am not one who would hide under some manly armpit. Neither am I one who can be tamed by a man.

So perhaps I deserve the amount of gossip surrounding my public figure. After all, I have the ability to have my daily meals with three different men in a day.

The only time I am very open about my relationship with Alex is in the UK. Somehow I feel free there and there aren’t any second cousin’s older brother’s best friend to scrutinize how Alex and I conduct our lives. Nor tell me what to do with our lives. Nor are there great family dinners to attend every three months.

It is just me. It is just Alex. And that is good enough.

I cannot wait to go back to my garden. Apparently my garden has sprung into action and all are blossoming well. All are well except the Ligularia, which are slug food anyway. I never expected them to grow back this spring. My bags are half packed and now all I need is my ticket. As it is, I am going to miss my duck rice date with Boss Stewie because I bought my ticket late. I have not bought my ticket yet. Otto bad!




The Bad
And because Alex is not around to tell me what to do with my life or how I should live my life or where I can go and who I can be out with, I am left to my own devices. Some see it as good (that would be me) and some see it as bad (everyone else). I certainly feel that Asian men generally need to control their women. Or perhaps, Asian women like to be instructed. It makes them feel loved.

“No, you cannot have coffee with him/her.”

“Make sure you come back by 10 p.m. I will call you to check.”

“I don’t like you out clubbing.”

“You are not permitted to wear that sexy blouse.”

“You must eat less. You are so fat.”

I know of a chubby girl who loved the fact that her even chubbier boyfriend kept calling her fat. “He loves me so much, that’s why he calls me fat and asks me to lose weight,” she said, beaming a smile, now a size smaller and in high heels, of course. What good is a pornstar if she is not in her high heels?

I might be mixing with the wrong type of Asian men. I have thought about the possibility that I might just be in the wrong company. But the Asian men I know are either the businessman who married a decent lady, have kids with her and dump the whole bunch at home while he is out working. And his definition of working includes having meals and after drinks with beautiful secretaries and clients.

Have you seen the lot of them? These men burp and rub their tummies on any given Sunday while his 2.5 kids run around the dinner table, his wife dressed in a fitted blouse and linen pants. These men are great caregivers but they do not give their souls to the family.

Of course he gave the best that he has – his money – to his wife. In turn his wife, because she is a nice girl, uses the money to build a home for the family, send the kids for tuition and tennis lessons and some sexy lingerie for herself to fulfil her duty as the ideal wife.

I do not want a life like that.




The Ugly
Now the bachelors are not any more noble. I have gone for parties, be introduced to new men and be on a joyride home with my girlfriends. And the calls will start 5 minutes after my goodbye.

“You going anywhere after this?”

“Perhaps I can see you for coffee tomorrow?”

“Let me show you the most beautiful skyline.”

I always imagined them to excuse themselves from the given company to call me privately. Then they will say how much of a good time they have had and a suggestion of the possibility of catching up later. They will go back to their company, pretending as if nothing ever happened then after.

There would be nothing to write about if it was just so innocent, now would there? These men often pit themselves against their closest mates, childhood friends and even colleagues. These are the same men who pat each other’s back ten minutes ago, saying how close buddies they were with each other or how they played football since Primary Five.

Tell me how you would feel if you have heard all the lies and the stories that men can ever make up? Would you not feel like me, a little disgusted at how bitchy a man can be when he wants to get into your French knickers? Oh no, I am not saying that these men love me. They lust, not love. Which adds to the disgust, I guess.

Sometimes I wonder whether this is just a “Otto problem” or do other girls experience the same? I bloody hope that this is a general female population problem and not just a ME problem. If it is, then I am truly fucked.

I will not end this post with a traditional feel good conclusion. This is because I do not feel good about all that I have seen and heard. Normally I do not want to talk about stuff like this because I think it is fucked up. It really plays with my mind and it makes me wonder how much can I trust a man with my heart.




“There’s a shark in the pool
And a witch in the tree
A crazy old neighbour and he’s been watching me
And there’s footsteps loud and strong coming down the hall
Something is under the bed
Now its out in the hedge
There’s a big black crow sitting on my window ledge
And I hear something scratching through the wall

Oh what should I do I’m just a little baby
What if the lights go out and maybe
I just hate to be all alone
Outside the door he followed me home
Now goodnight moon
I want the sun
If its not here soon
I might be done
No it wont be too soon till I say
Goodnight moon”
~ Goodnight Moon, Shivaree

~ Crazy Thing Called Love, Queen




Coffee With My Lawyer
I went out for a date with my lawyer to discuss a legal matter. We agreed to meet up at 11 a.m. and he was there punctually. I was there a little earlier because I am a punctuality freak. My lawyer and we have been friends since I was a wee child (okay, I was a teenager then). He watched me grow up, from wearing dorky Sunday church dresses to a full grown woman today. Oddly we never really went out together, although I meet him often for legal advice.

He sat across me with his arms crossed. He smiled and got straight into the matter at hand. Crossing arms is a sign of defence, I thought to myself. I noted in my heart that the meeting would yield its usual conversations – about my business, my parents (since he provides legal advice to them too) and perhaps my generally development. Crossing of arms meant that he was careful with his words and he would not tell me anything more than necessary.

I bought my lawyer coffee for the day. It was the first time that I did so. We have never been out together, outside his office walls. It was about time anyway since he has taken care of me legally speaking since the day I started work and kept me sane through the tougher times. I even told AB that he should call my lawyer to bail me out, if ever the police raided and I was sent to squat outside of a police station. Thankfully that day never happened since D kept me well informed and AB rushed me out of raids 5 minutes before they happened.

After some time, my lawyer opened up a little more and we started talking about our private lives. How we met and we are REALLY doing these days, which meant we talked about the not-so-polite details of our daily lives. It was quite intriguing the life my lawyer led. He asked me some questions eventually and for once, I felt quite smart. Usually I did the asking and my lawyer answered. This time around, he asked me questions that I am all too familiar with – relationships.

There is no 100% foolproof formula for a relationship. There are far too many variables involved and that is what makes relationships so maddening when we are frustrated and satisfying if we managed to nurture love. Some girls like it coy, where they reply your questions ambiguously and you are left to decipher what they meant.

Personally I am not one who would beat around the bush. I like to get my facts straight and strong. I do not enjoy playing games and going round in circles. If I like you, I will let you know. If I do not like you, well you will also know that within the first few minutes of meeting. I make no effort to pretend to be what I am not.

And when I deal with men, I expect the same from them. Nothing can be worse than a man who cannot even express his thoughts and desires well. I have no respect for sissies. I make my business decisions like a man and I expect a man to behave like a man. Do not attempt the “one day hot, one day cold” treatment on me. I belong to the category of women who actually will rush into your office, lock you in it, pounce on the table and on you and ask, “Fucking hell, just tell me. You like me or not? Don’t fucking play hide and seek with me.” The one thing I detest in men is indecision. I told you, I like my men strong, sharp and straight to the point.

So when my lawyer asked me how should a man gently let a woman he is dating know that he likes her but is not ready to marry her right that minute, I said that he should just be honest with her. I would have appreciated, “you know, I enjoy your company. I think I like you quite a fair bit, so I would like to see more of you. We can go out and discover if we are compatible. What do you think?”

Most likely my answer is a “Hell yeah! I am not interested in getting married too!” if I quite fancy the man as a lover.

Honestly I do not think girls should murder a man for wanting to date but not ready to commit. I will freak out if a man I date plans our wedding three months into dating each other. I will seriously freak out.

Instead of feeling offended, I will take it as a compliment because the man is comfortable enough to be honest with me. At the end of the day, I want honest communication in my relationship, not one that is based on pseudo reality.

However the world is not perfect and not all girls enjoy an honest answer. How do you tell a girl that you quite like her but not enough to marry her this instant and not get butchered in the process? I am a girl and I haven’t got a clue. Do you?




A Burst Tire
My tire felt bumpy on the way back home. I stopped my car by the side of the car amidst heavy rush hour traffic. I walked around the car, observing each tire and they looked normal enough although I knew a bumpy journey home on a non-bumpy road was not. I held onto my steering wheel a little tighter, as I had the uncanny habit of driving like Bob Marley on high at neck breaking speed.

A little bit more, so we can do this, I thought to myself. Now there would not be a story if I got back with all four tires intact, now would we? 200 meters and the right hind tire burst into a hardly audible “poof!”. Cars drove pass, drivers pointing at my flat tire. Ya lah, ya lah, I thought to myself. I signalled to the left and parked it by the roadside. Took out my mobile to contact my father but decided at the very last minute to just drive back home. Slowly. My father would have asked me to drive home anyway, so I did.

My father changed the tire while I was checking my sitemeter statistics last evening. An email popped into my mailbox and I laughed when I saw the photos my Swedish Love sent me. He looked gorgeous, more good looking than the day when I kissed him good bye in Stockholm Airport four years ago. His second photo tickled my funny bones. “Here is a photo of me semi-nude, in return for your bikini photos,” he wrote.

And there was the photo of him standing with flexed arms, showing off his toned abdomen and beautiful face. He wore a pair of his usual white cotton boxers and in a way, he could rival a Calvin Klein underwear model. I smiled.

“Look babs, Henrik sent me a series of “look what you are missing” photos” I wrote to Alex, then describing how gorgeous my ex boyfriend looks at 33 years old. I hate to think how Swedish Love will look when he is 60 because he would be too good for his age. Damn, look what I am missing.

“Is your ex-boyfriend still pining for you after all these years? Or did you send some “look what you are missing” photos before his? He must be a really tidy person to stay in a 54sqm apartment. Your clothes and shoes would have driven him to break up with you the following summer.” Alex wrote back.

Swedish Love has a new love now. She is tall and blonde. They share a cat and live in the apartment that was meant for me. Sometimes I do think what would have happened if I did not meet Alex and continued living with Swedish Love. I imagined I would have been happy residing in Stockholm with him, having fabulous breakfasts in the mornings and picnics in the summers. Maybe I would have had a child by now. Who knows?

I showed my father the series of photos. We sat down at my writing table and stared at Swedish Love’s photos. “You know what a perfect man would be?” I asked my dad. “It would be Alex in personality and emotions and Henrik’s body,” I said then gave a long sigh. My father nodded quietly.

Coincidentally Swedish Love was with me the last time I had a burst tire. Ironic and foretelling?





The L Word
R and I have been going out quite regularly these days. Perhaps we both feel lonely and each other’s company was welcomed. I have been helping him in the pass two weeks, to finish the collection of 1600 t-shirts for a Polo club. Am still waiting for the day when my eyes are not too swollen to ogled at the Polo players riding their studs hard. Therefore it came as no surprise that R and I sms-ed each other a few times a day these days.

Here is a short transcript of our sms conversation

• Otto: When are you free? I am bored here lah.


• R: Hey, you like the rich people arr. Treat me as entertainment. Ha ha!


• Otto: Who is treating who as entertainment? I love you as my friend and you take me for granted. You think I am terrible, horrible blah blah blah, which is NOT TRUE. If I so bad, why are you still talking to me?


• R: You are such a cutie. That’s why I love you.


• Otto: Eh I am sulking ok.


• R: Sulking, huh? Tell me earlier. Force me to use the L word. Just as long as you are happy, I am happy.

It is quite difficult to squeeze the L word out of men. Alex hardly says that he loves me. Ever. Even after all these years, he would muster a “I am quite fond of you” or “I like you lah.” Somehow men and the L word are not compatible. Men are just so apprehensive when using the L word. Why ha?!

However men must realise that us womenfolk are a tender bunch and we like to hear the L word every now and then. Especially on hormonally charged days, such as last evening when Alex was so far away, BestGuyFriend is with Nikki (no more entertaining me) and R was busy delivering t-shirts and uniforms to hotels, hospitals, offices and banks. Leaving poor Little Miss Otto, unloved.

Now for the girls: Here is a little tip. Never ask a man for the L word when you are about to have sex. Do not ever equate L to sex because men will do and say anything for sex. Including uttering the L word. Actually even a dinosaur will say he loves you, if you offer to drop your skirt and bend over. But if you do want the quantity of the L word and not too bothered for the quality, then ask him if he loves you just moments after you flash a little flesh. Ask him three times more before you let him take a peek in your skirt and a few more for good measure when he is trying to tear the blouse off you.

Okay time for me to go and fish for some L words. This time from Alex. He should be accessing his mailbox anytime now. Bye people!




Tags coffee lawyer starbucks date legal+advice police raids club pub relationship business+decisions tire flat+tire nude semi+nude boxers model Calvin+Klein gorgeous Stockholm Sweden love swedish rich entertain entertainment sex flesh

Inspired by an article entitled
Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston set for a 'quickie' divorce'






I sulked for the pass few days, lamenting the fact that MENJ did not address many of my comments over at his blog. Gee, guess what? I got blocked and banned for life - no MENJ forever and ever and ever! At this rate, perhaps I should start sulking over lack of animal rights in Malaysia?



Spare a thought for our furry friends.
Learn more about animal welfare and care at SPCA MALAYSIA.

More info about cats at cats.org.uk.

More info about dogs at Kennel Club UK.

General pet care at Pet Health Care UK.






***
Small Talk
In retrospect I quite enjoyed going over to MENJ's to comment... I am bloody lamenting the fact that I don't have a blog to comment on so religiously anymore! *sigh*

He hardly address my questions but I guess in hindsight, that was actually good. I just wanted to offer a different view over the same topic. Consider it two sides to a coin.... but alas, he has banned the IPs. I guess I will just have to find a new playground *sigh*
***


Tags religion MENJ blog blogging satire newspaper divorce brad+pitt jennifer+aniston angelina+jolie animal animal+rights pet petcare cat cats dog dogs SPCA RSPCA Malaysia

~ Let It Be, Beatles

In the pass two days, Miss Claire of minishorts.net has been writing interesting and thought provoking posts on a very sensitive issue. I think this issue sits in the top ten position in Malaysia's rather long list of sensitive issues. Many fear inciting hatred or ruffling some feathers at the home front. Others are just plain selfish, having a "tidak apa" (trans: never mind) not wanting to participate in an issue that is very important to Malaysians.

So what are we talking about here?

The latest pic posted by MENJ of himself.
You may want to read the article relating to this photo.

For very obvious reasons, we are talking a 26 year old Muslim man that goes by the name of MENJ (acronym of his given name). I have been a regular participant over at his blog and have made it a point to comment on issues that I think need addressing. I feel that it is necessary for me and many other young people to voice our opinions and discontentment over some of his posts. As a matter of fact, I think it is our duty as a Malaysian citizen to do so. Who is going to protect our rights if not ourselves?

I have mentioned this many times over here at About Nude Not Naked and I will take this opportunity to mention it again. We are fast approaching our 50th anniversary as a sovereign and liberated country. What are our achievements as a nation? What have we done? What are we contributing to the world? What are we famous for? What can we do to improve human rights, healthcare, education for the common man on the street and what can we do to increase our economy by creating a system that is trustworthy and conducive for investors and tourists?

What I admire most about MENJ is his spirit. He is dedicated to something which he believed in. While I think he is skewed in his beliefs and thus, writing a lot of things that is not necessary true or good for the nation, I admire his dedication to spread his form of beliefs. He has written a book and is producing yet another book. Do I think he has enough juice to write a book on comparative religion? No. But he wrote it nonetheless.

We are talking about a 26 year old student (he is still studying in APIIT) who is still living with his family. Nothing wrong with living with your family and generally nothing wrong about still being in college at 26. I doubt he has traveled much and that is clearly what is lacking. He is short sighted in many of his views and is not credible enough to walk the talk he has been preaching over at his blog site.

He wrote an article "Beloved PM", my A-hole" last evening. And that is just the start. He does not seem to be able to accept others who have a differing idea from him. He has no respect for women (another example here) and generally anyone who does not share similar opinions as his.

And the cream on the icing? He has political ambitions to create/build an utopian society that is based on Islamic principles. MENJ's convictions are so strong that he is certain that the nation will benefit from being governed by Islamic principles. What he wants to do away is racial policies (so out goes bumiputera special privileges) and replace it with good religious principles (in comes discrimination of a different kind).

So basically this man is replacing one form of discrimination with another. The only key difference is he wishes to be the man in charge. Kinda reminds me of Osama and his form of jidahist movement...

The offending satire.

If a few comic strips were offensive,
what do you call this satire about destroying another religion?

Minishorts has presented a very good argument for MENJ's latest naughtiness. Please read them to further understand what I am asking all of us good citizens of Malaysia to do.

Minishorts vs MENJ - Round One
Minishorts vs MENJ - Round Two

MENJ's reaction to Minishorts' posts.


In previous months, I have highlighted the issue of MENJ and you can read it here.


What I am asking you today is to spare some minutes to think of your future and that of your children. What do you want your future to be like? How do you want Malaysia to be? What can you do to contribute to our society? If you are concerned for your future and your religious freedom, please spend a moment to write posts on your blog to raise awareness for this issue. You can do something positive, so take a proactive role. Write to the newspaper if you must. Voice your concerns and present your facts clearly.

Talk to your friends about this issue. Educate the young about their freedom and rights while walking and working in a multi racial country such as Malaysia's. Defend your national interest and that of your community. Do it with dignity and maturity. Do not resort to name calling.

Do something today. Make your voice count!

Do not have a "tidak apa" attitude. Take a lesson from Pol Pot and Cambodia in the 1970s. All the inner city dwellers were removed from their homes and loaded by the truckload, only to be exterminated by the millions in the countryside. Here is a good reminder of what will happen when the citizens do not question and do not voice their concerns. Those who lived in the cities, willingly walked into their own deaths, sometimes even digging their death beds. The reason why I said they willingly walked into their own deaths is because they did not object or oppose the new regiment. Neither did they question. They were being "tidak apa", just packed into the trucks as instructed and went as they were told.

A farmer named Pol Pot and his army of teenage peasant guerrillas took two weeks to round up all the city people and literally killed thousands upon thousands. And not a soul questioned these military men when they were first taken into the countryside. Okay, so they had guns but their numbers were a fraction of the citizens they were rounding up. So why didn't any intellectuals and citizens from the bigger cities object? Would Cambodian history be different if someone stood up, objected and said it was wrong? What happened if those who were evacuated refused to be relocated into prisons? What if they grouped together and cooperated against slave labour (normally 10 to 15 families lived together with one Khemer guard)?

All it took was one crazed man and a band of rowdy uneducated fools to burn blood into Cambodian history.



No more "tidak apa" excuses. Stand up and make your voice count. That is the beauty of democracy in Malaysia. Make full use of your rights as a citizen. This is a good opportunity to think about our pass and what we want for our future. It is time to talk about it.







***
Do not for a moment think that this is about religion. This is about our freedom and our rights as a citizen of Malaysia. It is about protecting the sovereignity of the country and the freedom we enjoy each day.

The issue at hand is not "Christianity vs Islam". The issue is about a SMALL group of people who wants to destroy and obstruct the freedom of MANY citizens in Malaysia. It is not about being Buddhist or Hindu or Christian or Muslim. This is about balancing the views of a man (and his little group of friends) and letting him know that his intentions of destroying others is not acceptable in Malaysia.

And again, as I have mentioned in my previous post about MENJ, I hope the police will keep an eye on this man. Yes, he is indeed a small fry at the moment, not even able to complete his basic college education. Yes, he is still feeding off his mother and father at home. But he has blatantly said that he does not pledge his allegiance to the nation and its people. If he is not pledging his allegiance to the nation, who is he pledging to?

It makes him dangerous. He used words that were uttered by many lost men who went on to destroy the lives of many, MANY people in various countries. So beware of MENJ and the likes of him. Keep an eye on men like him and watch out for his future. Do not allow him an opportunity to grow into anything more than what he is at the moment.

Or for that matter, anyone who seeks to destroy what is giving all of us peaceful sleep at night.




***
Small Talk
Link to this post if you wish to support what my call for Malaysians to be more socially responsible (but you do not have the time to write). Thanks.
***

~ What Am I To You, Norah Jones

Click on this song for an authentic feel
while reading this particular entry about friendship and love.



So Little Miss Otto went to work with her MiniBoyFriend after her work hours. Ten minutes before that, she was at Good Editor's portable office in a trendy cafe somewhere uptown, where she received an offer for an all expense paid trip to Bangkok. Good editor was compiling a team of talents to design and produce a watch catalogue for a very fashion and serious client.

"No joke-joke, ok? When you go there, you wake up real early and work hard," Good Editor warned.

"I know lah! I do work with very serious clients in my own company, ok?" she said, reminding him of how serious she could be when she was required to be serious. She said this while swinging her crossed feet at the bar.

Her heart flipped the instant she heard of the trip to Bangkok. She felt so delirious, she phoned MiniBoyFriend R, who was still toiling away at some sweat shop, mass producing shirts and uniforms for companies everywhere.

"I'll help," she said, offering her services. She then recalled folding 150 t-shirts for Citibank employees a few weeks ago, the last time she rendered her help to a very panicky MiniBoyFriend R.

The place was quiet when she reached the door. All hell broke loose a few seconds later. More than ten ladies walked out through the tiny side door, all seemed happy going home finally at 7:00 p.m. Three seconds later, R appeared, hands shaking, clearly in need of some nicotine. She walked towards him and stood by him while he was sat at the fire hydrant. Cars came and went and soon all those ladies were no more. R shook his head.

"Die lah this time," he said, "160 shirts and only 16 are completed." He frowned, then stepped on the cigarette butt to snuff it out.

She went into the embroidery room, three steps behind him. Along with his best friend and business partner, the three of them tried their best to complete a few more. Because she was not a trained tailor, her chief duty consisted of packaging and labeling. This time around, she clipped and undo all the mistakes in the embroidery. When she was done, MiniBoyFriend R was still working at the embroidery machine. The machine was noisy and so they hardly spoke. When they did, it was about the Good Editor and his offer to add both of them to the Bangkok Dream Team.

It was 10:00 p.m. and none of them have eaten. Her tummy was rumbling as she skipped along the narrow path in the room. When she grew tired of skipping and MiniBoyFriend R was still working, she got busy with her digital camera. Her first subject was naturally MiniBoyFriend himself, ever so hardworking. It was amazing watching him thread the needle. He threaded like a pro!

Join MiniBoyFriend R's overtime shift
and he guarantees you will lose 2 inches within a month.
So eat your heart out, Marie France.


Ambassador for the MiniBoyFriend R's diet program,
Best Buddy lost 3 kg in the 1st two weeks
of joining MBF's skim kena kerja OT.


Little Miss Otto loves colors as you can see.


Bright color threads all in a row.


Tantalizing to Miss Otto's eyes.


Colors that brighten even your dullest day!



She felt awkward after some minutes taking photos of spools of colored thread. Consequently she moved to a new subject...



Little Miss Otto says "HI!"


Ian noted that women's feet were very sexy.
Here's a photo of The Nude's, though she seriously doubts that they were a turn on.
Note to self: Sexy feet = slim string Jimmy Choo shoes, not fancy Rockport sneakers!


Only left for dinner at 11:00 p.m. MiniBoyFriend looked superbly tensed. He described how the embroidery machine's scrotum fucked up badly and how the machine was left with one ball. MBF managed to finish the large bowl of laksa in between laughing and cursing the machine that refused to work since half pass 9 p.m. Little Miss Otto was wondering how to cheer her MBF and realized that she sucked pretty much at cheering up. She realized that she was blessed with supportive friends, such as MBF R who helped her through her drama days effortlessly. She then consciously made an effort to be the perfect MiniGirlFriend.

"Good night, MiniBoyFriend R," she said, then giving him a tight squeeze. "You know you squeezed my bottom over the weekend? You mah lat lou (trans: pervert/horny man)"

MBF R laughed, flicked his ciggie and walked back to his 160 t-shirt mess.




***
In retrospect, Little Miss Otto does not put too high hope on the all expense paid trip to join the photographers, designers and models in Bangkok. She feels that she will end up writing for the catalogue rather unglamourously while sitting in her panties at home.




Tags love friendship boyfriend mini MBF Norah+Jones work Bangkok sweatshop uniform Citibank tailor embroidery embroider Jimmy+Choo Rockport model models photographer watch

~ Dirty Litlte Secret, All American Rejects

Perfect song for this particular post, so click on it before you proceed further.

• Longest corresponding reader(s)
  A very interesting Bill who is teaching TEFL in Budapest at the moment and JDiamond from brokenconstraints.com



• Male blogger I MSN regularly
  Ian Liew



• Male blogger that I have chatted on the phone with
  Kenny Sia



• Male blogger that I most want to meet
  Looney



• Male blogger that I most want to meet but is shy of meeting
  Kenny Sia - this might come as a surprise but contrary to her Nude personality online, Little Miss Otto can be quite a shy person when she is not typing.



• Female blogger(s) that I most want to meet
  YC and Suanie



• Female blogger that I have met (though not introduced)
  Kinky Fairy - so cute can die dot com.



• Blogger that I almost met but didn't quite make it
  Kenny Sia



• Reader who knows me in real life and participates in NNN comments
  Wouter



• Blogger(s) that I think is worth more than just one mention
  Nobe and PinkPau



• So I mention them twice
  Nobe and PinkPau



• I will share my plate of duck rice with
  Boss Stewie and Boss Lepton of the lengmou fame - just because these two boys know how to hang loose. Okay, and they are in London. Okay okay okay, and because they like duck rice.



• Male blogger that I perceive as the opposite of me
  SixSeal (Hot Babe) and Looney (also a hot babe) - Okay, I have a fascination for men with tattoos.
  
  R, for example, has his whole back tattooed in Japanese pop art and has two angels with the most beautiful blue eyes at his left side/rib area. AB has both arms covered (various Christian insignias), the word "PRIDE" boldly running across his abdomen and a demon with its mouth opened at his lower region.
  
  And the man I chose to be with and live with, Alex is not tattooed at all. Neither am I.



• Female blogger that I perceive as the opposite of me
  YC and Kinky Fairy in a feel good sort of way and MiniShorts in a weird feeling sort of way.



• Female blogger that reminds me what friendship is all about
  Suanie - because like Ain, Suanie reminds me of a charming personality, quick wit and steadfast companionship.



• The ideal MiniBoyFriend material
  KinkyPugKevin (approved by KinkyFairy) and Grey Boy (approved by Otto) - what are you girls waiting for? Go get your very own MBF today!



• Blog of the moment
  Mooiness - there is such something about Mooiness that I can't seem to pinpoint at the moment.



• Blog that kickass when she kicks some ass
  Fuckstress - just because she describes anger, violence and destruction so beautifullly. I could not do better.



• Blog that I wished remained dead
  Daphne Teo - that girl is like a crockroach. Never seems to know when to die, even when smacked hard. Then again, this sense of persevering spirit is admirable. Gotta give credit where it is due.



• Blog where I have made the most comments
  MENJ - I don't know if I should be happy or disappointed that MENJ has not threatened to ban me from his blog. He doesn't even "layan" (direction trans: "to entertain") 50% of my comments *sigh*
  
  
• Blog that taught me bad language
  XX, Hokkien blog princess - despite finding her entries crass, splattered with Hokkien curss words, I think she is an excellent example of fantastic marketing skills. Not easy to promote a short and stout girl as a bubbly beauty from the East and a success at that deserves a mention.
  

***
Small Talk
My spirit is willing but my flesh is weak. I have been meaning to compile the sex survey but I seem to be churning posts after post, totally ignoring the one post that I have to get my ass to do.

I have an appointment with my lawyer this morning and I need to sort some stuff out before leaving for the UK. I do not see how my work will ever be finished. I am too busy even to eat. I sit in front of the laptop, typing work stuff and writing more than 14 hours in a day. I am promoting good economy in Malaysia by buying 4 pairs of shoes in the last 10 days. I wished my bank balance was healthier though =)
***




Tags blog blogging dirty+little+secret dirty secret TEFL Budapest brokenconstraints MSN ianliew kenny+sia looney malaysian alien suanie YC blackjettas kinky+blue+fairy fairy Joyce+Wong Nobe Pink+Pau lengmou sixth+seal hot+babe minishorts kinkypugkevin grey+boy mooiness fuckstress Daphne+Teo XX xiaxue MENJ

Dedicated to my longest corresponding reader,
a reader who became a friend, whose name is Bill
who once wrote to me with the following question.

"Here is a question for U and maybe U can write a blog
entry about it. Tell us how it feels for U to see the desire in their eyes
+ sense the lust in their hearts? I am not only
referring to sleazebags like Mark who would turn off
most women anyway but from just average, nice guys who
gasp when U glide into the room. Catcha, B"




The email was written on 9th April. It took me more than a month to figure this question out. I have thought about it on many occassions and never seemed to know the answer. Some 6 hours thinking about it in the bathtub, 15 hours while driving and whole loads more while talking to Mark and other men, I think I have the answer. 36 days on, I am surprised by my answer.

So Bill, here is the answer to your question ---> I have simple breakfasts and nice conversations with them.




Here is the excerpt of sms conversation between MiniBoyFriend R and I today, a few hours after Ain left us for Indonesia.

Approximately 8:00 p.m. Sunday evening:

• Otto: Wah friend, just now so sweaty under the sun, all woman smell now...


• R: Dun worry. Scent of beauty.


• Otto: Hahaha, I can't tahan. U can b extremely cute & adorable! U make my day la. Cya 4 bfast 2moro. Shld I skip bathing 2day, so smell of beauty 2moro?


• R: Must shower. Tomorrow artificially perfumed like usual. No need so pretty.


• Otto: Haha, so u dont want me beautiful in the morning la =) catch u 2moro. U call me okie? 9ish?

Approximately 10:00 p.m. last evening as I wrote "Of Great Friendships, Eating, A Quickie and No"

• Otto: U knw u must tell me the truth all the time. Dont shield me from truths and think it's protecting me. I knw AB dont love me. It is ok. I am big girl. I might cry but I will be wiser.


• R: Sometimes I wonder what's love? Sometimes I can't tell. Can you?


• Otto: Love is everything u hope 4 n dream of. It's happy n sad, tossing together, never without each other. U can never love if u never hated or cried. It is never perfect but it doesn't matter cos love makes us feel alive n dead.


• R: For a certain person, he is only able to have simple breakfast and nice conversation.

Good friends are hard to come by and sincere friends, as rare as comets passing through Jupiter. I am very sure that there are many girls out there with great MiniBoyFriends sharing similar sentiments. There are reasons why some MiniBoyFriends are MiniBoyFriends and they do not become lovers. They cannot and do not cross that fine line between friends and lovers, no matter what how much love, affection or attention is showered.

But what sustains a MiniBoyFriend and makes some men last a lifetime while others fade? Relationships blossom and wither but these MiniBoyFriends remain steadfast forever.

You know you have found something precious when you find someone whom you can just be yourself, someone who loves you when you are weak and someone who will accept you whatever you are. And when you find the person, you will find satisfaction in the easiest forms of things. You will love the person but the feeling is above romatic love.

What do you call something that is above love? When it is the smallest things that satisfy your soul?



***
Small Talk
Had breakfast with R this morning. It lasted for two hours and finally he said, "What the fuck did I tell you yesterday?"

He related the story of last evening, when he attended his classmate's wedding. Bride was crying on her wedding day. Groom pushed Bride away as he laid in drunken stupor. Groom went home, fell on his face and had a bloody face by 2:00 a.m. It is interesting to note that the groom was always the perfect, responsible one who did everything correct every single day.

What a way to make a mistake. Making the bride cry on her wedding day. It was not truly his fault though because he was basically gone, washed up between some faraway planet in Whiskey Land. As the bride sat and cried in a corner of the grand ballroom, the mother of the groom decided to talk to her son. She got shooved too.

If the boys had not coax the groom and made him drink glasses after glasses of whiskey and red wine, it would not have happened.

Poor bride.

The point of him relating the story was ---> "Am I violent when I am drunk?" R asked.

I shook my head. He was usually very talkative when he was.

"Am I obedient when I am drunk?" he asked again.

"Very much so."

"Then I am not drunk enough. Must try harder," he concluded.

I do not understand men sometimes.
***




A bunch of photos arrived in my mailbox today. Here are 3 to share with you. Photos from this year's Chinese New Year reunion.

Left to right
Classmate 1, Otto, Classmate 2 and E.

Left to right
Otto, Classmate 1 and SuperMiniBoyFriend


Left to right
Classmate 1, E's BF and E

Great Friendships
Sorry for the utter silence in the last few days. Things were going at a maddening speed and then came Ain, a very good friend of mine from Indonesia. I love her to bits. Ain is the most amazingly giving person I have had the opportunity to meet, extremely warm and fun to be with.

Our friendship goes back a long way to a time and place when she was still a college student taking an IT course. We ate, slept and played, often spending days next to each other without ever feeling bored. Consisting mostly of meal times together and a generous 15 minute walk after each meal, we spent lots of evenings chatting and sharing our daily stories and worries. Ain eventually left for Jakarta, found a job and started working. Then our conversations became shorter and shorter because we were just so busy with daily stuff.

Sometimes on more melancholic days, I find myself in despair. When I think back, I have come to realise that Ain was a rare treasure. Although she is one of my newest friends (approximately 3 years), Ain has proven herself a fierce and loyal friend, who was always around to support and help me through some tough patches. She always wanted the best for me and gave her very best to me. All my older friends paled by comparison. I felt helpless that I did not love her more and gave more of myself to her in return for her friendship.

I remember the time when my favourite cat, Coco died. Ain was there as Coco drew her last breath. I hugged Coco tightly in my arms and wailed so badly that I choked on my words. Ain panicked, took Coco and placed her on the table. Coco’s newborn kittens were mewing for milk in the tiny box. Ain lifted Coco’s mouth and gave my favourite cat CPR, in a bid to probably revive Coco. I was so shaken by the whole incident, clung onto my cat and cried for what felt like hours.

As the evening call to prayer resounded across the yellow tint sky, Ain dug a hole and asked me to give Coco to her. Ain and the two maids helped bury Coco. R came over and together they fed and patted me to sleep that night. Ain took care of the kittens that first night. To those unfamiliar with caring for cats and kittens, newborn kittens needed feeding every hour, burped and had their little bottoms stimulated by a warm towel, so their bowels moved. All Ain did all of those things for me.

I asked myself time and again, why had I not realize all this much earlier? Why did I not see Ain’s sincerity years ago? Why is it that I had to be disappointed by treacherous and unrequited friendships, in order to find and appreciate a jewel friendship like Ain’s?

I vowed to repay her kindness with kindness and that was how I offered my loyalty to Ain. It was her goodness of heart that won me over. Just like how Alex is with my heart, it was Ain who loved me as a friend first.

Sometimes friendships such as Ain’s are Life’s gift to us - to teach us to be better people. These are the rare friendships that bless and enrich our lives with lessons of love and relationships. I learnt to be a better person by being Ain’s friend. This is a humbling experience and I guess, a great friend like Ain will add character to your soul.




Eating
We were out on a mission to eat the town poor. Since knowing that Ain was coming for a visit, I have been listing what we would do and where we would go. Dim Sum was top priority and so determined in my heart that we be up and having sticky rice and scrumptious dim sum at 8:00 a.m. that I announced that we would be there for breakfast on Saturday morning and that my body clock will wake me up in time for it.

True enough on Saturday morning, I got up and looked at the clock. It read quarter to 8 a.m. Felt victorious and so said, “See! I said I’d wake up before 8 and I did!”. I then got out of bed, walked to the bathroom to relieve myself, hopped back into bed and slept. Only to wake up two hours later. We missed dim sum! That taught me never to brag again.

After stuffing ourselves the whole of Saturday like greedy Hansel and Gretel at the witche's cottage and watching Tom Cruise four seats from the front, we could not walk a step without feeling our bellies getting fatter by the minute. We only managed to squeeze dinner at half pass 9 p.m. Due to bad planning and miscommunication, Nikki and BGF did not make it for the after-drinks. But hey, Ain and I from boogie the night away in Lola.

“I don’t know how everyone seems to have eagle eye vision and spots one single person in a crowd of few hundreds,” I whispered into Ain’s ears as we walked towards the bar. Seconds earlier, D shouted my name and said, “Hi”. I walked pass him without even noticing the tall bloke in his casual white shirt and jeans combination. Everyone else seems to be able to notice and call out for their friends. I am just like a blind bat! I do not seem to observe well enough. I do not even see friends who flashed their car lights on the opposite direction. Argh!

Things have changed since I shouted at him on New Year’s. What can I say? He chose the wrong person to defend and in anger, I asked him to leave me alone. While he was at it, he could help me by asking everyone else to leave me alone too and give me a measure of peace during this few months that I am in Malaysia. “I’ll fly back to London in a few months after my visa’s done,” I said between sobs on the first day of 2006.




A Quickie
”I met AB,” R announced last night when I returned his phone call at 2:00 a.m. Ain and I decided on an early exit and cut the Saturday night session short. We were hell bent on dim sum on Sunday morning 8:00 a.m. I frowned when I heard R recount his chat with AB. You see, I have not thought about AB for months and that is a good thing. I need the break. I cannot spend my days and nights thinking about a person, whom I imagine is thinking of his girlfriend and not me (which is fair since they are a couple and I am probaly the 3rd or maybe the 4th or 5th party).

“Bring my bottle of vodka to me,” R said, “and I will tell you what AB said about you.”

One thing about R when he is on an upper is, he tends to talk shit. The other thing about R when he is on an upper is, he always asked me to buy him a pack of Malboro or bring some vodka over or both.

“How many did you pop tonight?” I asked. R said he did not pop but had some joints with AB. I had even weirder nights with R, so a few joints was relatively mild. I did promise him a bottle of Absolut anyway, so I changed, washed up and drove the 2 minute drive to his house.

Vodka, R’s beagle is the most fascinating and lovable dog! R got him to sit, heel, roll over and lie down and I was basically clapping my hands at Vodka’s smart tricks. R even managed to train the dog to wait. Imagine the beagle wagging his brown tail, in anticipation of fetching the soft toy back to his master and just waiting for R to say, “Go!”. At the word “go”, Vodka zoomed down the hallway, screeched at the corner, grabbed the toy and zoomed back to R’s side, dropped the soft toy, sat and waited for the new instruction.

Bad news is Vodka still humped mine. Good news is Vodka humped Ain’s legs too. And the pillows on the sofa.

“No, stop it!” R said each time Vodka tried to mount Ain’s legs to hump.

“Yes, do it!” R said as Vodka hugged my legs and got on with his humping action. I tried my very best ordering the beagle with a firm “no” each time the beagle came over to my side but once I was so annoyed, I unconsciously smacked the dog. I felt so sorry the moment the dog ran back towards his master, who then gave him a reassuring pat. Yes, yes, I was the wicked witch of the East in the dog’s eyes.

”You know what the Good Editor said?” I said to R as Vodka, the horny humping beagle humped my leg. “Dogs are mirroring their masters’ desires.” I rolled my eyes as R laughed, exhaling some smoke.

“Yeah, baby. Vodka, do it one more time!” R said and the dog went on frantically humping my leg. And when he was not humping my leg, he was humping Ain’s or the sofa legs or some plush pillows next to Ain.

“You need a fuck quick, brother,” I said as the three of us looked at the dog who went on and on and on on and on. “And that dog of yours needs neutering.”




No
Did not make it for dim sum at 8:00 a.m. again. Not too surprising since we all slept after 3 a.m. My body clock went haywire since Ain’s arrival. We have been chatting and exchanging stories since the spare bed was lined next to mine on Friday. I was the first to be up at half 9 and woke Ain and R up. Dim sum at 10:00 a.m. was fucked up as the service was slow and Uncle, Aunty and Miss Dim Sum were already stressed up to their necks, serving tables after tables of hungry and demanding patrons since 6 a.m.

Had two more drinks elsewhere as I could not take the harsh weather in the afternoon. Long hair is fantastic in cold weather as one can use it as a scarf. In hot and humid climate such as Malaysia’s, one feel like dying walking under the hot sun.

R was a sweetheart and took over my car. We took a drive to China Town. Ain got some herbs from a medicine hall while I bought some crystals to string. I promised PY that I would make her a soft crystal beaded hairband, similar to the one she bought from Evita Peroni at RM120. Mine costs less than RM20. So smug about it. Wait till I show it to PY!!!!

Ain was dropped off at the bus station at half pass 2 p.m. Love, hugs and kisses all around at the busy road and Ain disappeared into the crowds of people. R wanted to purchase something for his grandmother and asked me to accompany him. With nothing much left to do, I agreed. He drove pass One Utama and I freaked out. “You missed the turning!” R decided that he wanted to have a second round of lunch.

“Do you want to meet AB?” R asked as we continued driving to the coffee shop. Come to think about it, we must have sat in the bloody car for more than two hours today, with all the driving we did.

I mumbled something that I cannot recall now.

“Do you want to see AB?” he asked again.

“Up to you,” I said nonchalantly. To be perfectly honest, I do not know whether I want to see AB. Obviously my whole body would scream an orgasmic “yes please!” but I have cured myself of the AB disease and do not want to dwell on pass memories ever again.


***
“No, nothing,” I said. I recalled a conversation I had with AB the last time I met him in the hotel room earlier this year.

We checked into a hotel that was popular for its "check in at midnight" special promotions. Most couples snuck in and snuck out, through the front and back doors. Most do not make eye contact. Some walked ahead of the other partner. Some were too drunk to walk. I imagined everyone shagging in every room, except the one where AB and I were in. We laid in bed, snuggled, chatted, laughed, kissed and cried. We hid, played, tickled, explored and seduced. I have sat on him and he on me. We have whispered secrets that never left the room. We did everything and we did nothing.

“Come on, ask. I know you want to ask me something,” AB said.

“Nothing." I said. I stared into the ceiling. The usual smoke whiffed gently upwards and disappeared into the white ceiling.

“You want to ask me if I love you,” AB said. He moved and laid on his side, his right arm folded under his head. His eyes were intently sat on me.

I moved and laid on my side, with my back facing him. I bent my knees and curled into a little ball. I closed my eyes. "Up to you."

“I love you,” he said.

I could see smoke rising and disappearing into the ceiling. AB smoked since he was in high school and I never smoked a day in my life. In a world that is so different, why did I yearn that we were the same?


***
“Do you want to see AB?” R asked again. I smiled at him. By then, we were sitting at the tiny coffee shop. Less than 10 metres away, was AB's house and somewhere in it, I imagined AB would be in a room shagging with his girlfriend.

"Do you want to talk to AB?" R asked.

“No,” came my reply.





***
Small Talk
The scene where the key character hugged the dead dog by the road in the "Fix You" chapter drew its emotions and inspiration from the lost I felt when Coco died.
***




Tags blog blogging friendship amazing cat cats death CPR treachery loyal loyalty love kindness giving give experience life dim+sum Tom+Cruise Mission+Impossible Saturday New+Year 2006 Vodka dog hump humping smoke smoking sweetheart I+love+you