Tuesday, 30 June 2009

those itchy hands...

those itchy hands were deserving of a sentence no less than that of decapitation. the idiot of those itchy hands was probably itching for a deed of emasculation in cold blood. those itchy hands "acting" on such behavior, even if under the influence of alcohol, is inexcusable, no matter how, no matter what.

those itchy hands should have digits brutally broken at every single joint, with those metacarpels crushed, and probably also run over by an old smoking train running on coal, smashed into calcium shards beyond repair. those itchy hands should have every running arteriole, venule and capillary snapped like that of broken violin strings. those itchy hands should have every muscle fibre picked at, pulled at and twisted with steel forceps.

the idiot of those itchy hands should have been made a modern day eunuch for the better good of every female for no female should ever be subjected to such degradation and disrespect. the worst part, is not just the feeling of disgust that arises for such lowlives, but rather, that for one's being and gender alongside the shame and resentment. the world is unfair indeed, and this is just one of the many loathed bits of it.

Sunday, 28 June 2009

a gentleman's bliss...

unforgettable moments that were simply beyond description, are all that can be said about big brother barney's wedding. it has been years since last saw godbrother barney, and the next monumental time we did meet, had to be his red letter day. time is really slipping by.

big brother barney is really a little like barney the dinosaur, in terms of longitudinal size that is. he has goddaddy benny's giant stature and is massively tall, though skinny like a beanpole and not all that huggable, though goddaddy benny was alot more huggable given his love for food, what more with godmommy brenda being a top notch cook. giants they may appear to be, but there is nothing, in the least, intimidating about them at all. if anything, it can only be said that there is a quiet strength in these two gentlemanly softhearted giants me know from the beginning of time, or at least, in the beginning of my knowing them. perhaps the term "pillars of strength" is more apt. guess that would make them pretty good candidates for the infamous name of "twin towers".

quiet as a church mouse, literally, big brother barney was a boy of few words, and a man of fewer words. think any of our conversational exchanges in my lifetime, can be easily counted on two hands, tops. the number of questions in each conversation would only make one hand at most, with the answers to those questions, in counted words, making up the fingers of the other hand, with the out of the blue, rarer than the blue moon, answer having words, in a sentence, making up my twenty fingers and toes, maximum.

the wedding speech, had him talking more than have ever heard in my whole lifetime, literally. that was and will probably be the only time where will ever hear big brother barney have a case of verbal diarrhoea. and apparently, he did not just have verbal diarrhoea. he also sang, in front of a whole church of people, for the new wife. this part surprised even my godparents and godsisters, let alone the friends. they would never ever think he was even capable of singing. that was how underused his larynx and pharynx was. seriously, either it is the bride, or he is making up for lost time. if you ask me, honestly think it is the bride. well, good for him if it is really so, because it must be and has got to be one of those made in heaven matches that is going to and will work out.

even more unbelievable, was catching big brother barney tearing in his wedding video when he was saying his wedding vows. of course there was also that momentous scene, secretly captured, where goddaddy benny was tearing, again. beautifully tearjerking, not to mention heartwarming to actually see the emotions behind those tears of two very dear gentle giants, if not for the fact my tearducts are out of order and have none to fall. although have never met the wife, let alone talk to her, the first time being that three seconds where got to express my heartfelt congratulations at the farewell door line up, this is one red string that was not wrongly tied, thank god. could not be happier for big brother barney, even if he failed to recognize me. nothing new, considering it is just another one of those things that has been happening a fair bit more than normal, as usual, especially when little boy ain't just one feet tall no more. all in all, one week ago, it was a day of a gentleman's bliss, in every sense of the word, pun intended.

Saturday, 27 June 2009


sleepless on a crepuscular island...

stuck in a dreary dream...

nights into days...

days into nights...

seamlessly ceaseless solitude...

Thursday, 25 June 2009

swine flu...

it certainly ain't everyday that one hears a girlfriend contracting the ongoing epidemic of a bug. it, all the more, ain't quite the best of news to hear that another girlfriend is quarantined and hospitalized while in suspicion of it. the worst part was probably only knowing after the whole fiasco had happened and was long over, by like a day, of which it was the day after she was discharged.

if anything, it does makes me wonder if one should be more wary of the flu, especially since mommy just came back from hongkong with a damn bug, not to mention a boyfriend who got stuck in some infested reservist camp for a few extra days due to the new out of the blue popups. first mommy, then girlfriend, and now me. yes, am sort of coming down with abit of a bug yet again, it ain't my fault that the game of "musical chair" flu can be oh so fun.

cannot help but love to, want to and am extremely tempted to sneeze right now in some public area with a sea of gazillions swarming about, just for the fun of watching people part like the red sea. this is one more valid reason to hate pork. goddamn swine flu.

Thursday, 18 June 2009

outfit misfit...

think it can be said that am born to be ousted in this lifetime to be an outfit misfit. wardrobe problems first happened a couple of weeks back, and somehow just became the subsequent pattern of norm there after at every possible occurrence. not funny.

saturday was me playing santa claus lugging a gigantuan assed duffel bag of shoes and clothes around. was not the first time and really doubt it would be the last, just that it gets pretty taxing on the shoulders and back as the bag has a tendancy to increase in dimension due to the crazy demands. five pairs of bottoms, couple of which were old loved baggy jeans, and three pairs of shoes, non inclusive of the jeans and shoes that was wearing, totally made my day, not. this is considering that the whole team decided not to use any of the shoes in the end because they were competitor brands and there would be a branding problem. poking needles into voodoo dolls with the team's hair strands, nail clippings or epidermal layers in them became the most tempting notion of the day.

my changeabout with the outfit during the last assignment, last minute once again, was another "wheee" incident. this time it was two bottoms, five tops and two pairs of shoes in the "magical doraemon" bag. thank god there was a bag size downgrade this time around, because seriously, any further upgrades will kill my aging and getting more brittle by the day crooked spine.

not to mention the constant change of dresses couple weeks back in the wardrobe unit or at the shoot. those few minutes slipping in and out of sewn together bits of satin, silk or chiffon probably had me in more dresses than can be accounted for in my whole lifetime put together, and yes, even counting in the baptismal baby outfit as well in my pint sized stages. talk about major skin crawl.

the conclusion from the outfit fiascos that have happened to date??? for one, it allows me to totally comprehend why stylists lug around baggage trunks. outfit chaos is really just a suitcase solution away, only if it is provided and even exists to begin with. two, to probably seriously consider the thought of carrying all that "necessary" junk around in a trolley suitcase. three, to pray for a bloody miracle when it comes to fitting sessions so that future headsplitting migraines can somehow be downgraded to a dull bad throb at most.

Wednesday, 17 June 2009


it ain't an everyday event getting an assignment that is celebrity studded, especially when it is one of such big scale that even the "entertainment" is flown in. certainly unexpected and a huge ass bonus if you ask me, especially when one is paid to work and gets to watch. of course, minus the screwups here and there, everywhere actually to be more precise.

bumped into quite a few familiar old faces. could not be recognized as usual, probably due to the size difference, alongside the same old "before and after extreme makeover" trick. it is always fun surprising people in such a way, my cheap thrill, sadly.

everyone was probably more mesmerized by the korean actress from some latest drama serial, while fantasizing fluffy daydreams of getting together with the local hot bod paul foster, or the specially flown in sizzling magician. paul was a real doll in honesty, be it in speech or mannerism. thank god there are people out there with manners and down to earth attitudes.

cyril did indeed work his magic, dazzling the ladies, as usual, and swept them off their feet, so much so they were pretty much looking to be walking on cloud nine. got to give it to him that he is bloody good in his trade. then again, he has to be, or else he would not have been flown in to stage a performance here.

before that, none of the girls knew nor cared two hoots who the hell cyril takayama was. think they probably had several second, and third, thoughts after the night was over, though cannot say the same for the guys. staying in the background as much was the modus operandi as usual, watching the whole world go by. and boy does it get entertaining from the sidelines, especially when one catches the guys having a case of sour grapes with the whole alpha male testosterone raging "competition" going on the moment the other girls start primping and going positively gaga over cyril, not to mention the massive bitch fight going on between two groups of girls. lesson of the night though, just do not be the one to get entangled into the mess of a bitch fight, because it really is a bitch to be in. and yes, to put a face to the name to who the hell cyril is.

Saturday, 13 June 2009


ever heard of the saying that there is person somewhere around the other side of the world who is technically, in a roundabout way, your non biological twin, considering the "imitation" is a walking replica of you??? ever had another person go, "you look like so and so"??? in all seriousness, am pretty sure that happens at least once, at the very least, in this lifetime, what more the possible others, if other lifetimes even exist in the first place that is.

believe it or not, have heard and had the "you look like so and so" bit a little too often for comfort in this recent period. not to say that it ain't a compliment to say the very least, considering the "so and so" names that have been thrown out are pretty, well, prominent. and if in the case one does happen to be genetically gifted and blessed with some sort of penny's worth of semblance to those few famed "so and so" beings, thankfully human, then one ought to feel honored, not to mention complimented, no???

if anything, if anything at all, compliment aside, one only ends up feeling as if one does not have a face to call one's own. goes to show, that perhaps, one ain't quite so unique after all, and a face, is no more than a template of a blank palette with contours of a pair of eyes and ears, a nose and a mouth that can be construed to look like another with skillful deft brush strokes of facial paint. at the end of the day, one is just, well, to put it bluntly, faceless, and there is no me to begin with.

Friday, 12 June 2009

a little low...

a little low on brain juice...

a little low on energy...

a little low on blood pressure and glucose too...

Tuesday, 9 June 2009


always been one to mind my own business and not go about messing with others if it can be helped, though not to say that help would not be offered if say an accident were to happen and a lending hand would be a nice gesture. been unwittingly in too many sorts of accidents, due to natural born tendancies of accident prone clumsiness to have that bit of first hand knowledge. on top of that, this ungrateful world degraded into a condition whereby the dog bites the hand that feeds it, so really, it is impossible to blame anyone for starting to adopt and personify the mentality of "why bother" when there really ain't no point being a kind soul when it does not pay to be good.

minding my own beeswax does not mean that am completely oblivious to the surrroundings such that one becomes a walking roadblock who gets in the way, though got to say, that am just one of those poor unfortunate souls who just ends up being "the accident". such is my lousy life. think "walking accident" should be illuminated on my forehead like a fluorescent neon signboard or something, with "please stand clear" tattooed across my back as a precautionary safety measure.

was just in a candy store picking out some candy when this slightly above middle aged old uncle was moving a trolley full of boxes of goods stacked a hill high for stock replacement. was itchy handed to want to help since he apparently appeared to be struggling with the tonne load, especially with beads of perspiration pouring down his balding crown and neck like the niagara falls. thought better of it and decided not to as did not want to get him in trouble since the candy store staff were watching him like hawks for one, plus it is also his job, and there are anal pricks who get offended when one crosses the line when it infringes into this circle called "job". neatly sidestepped and gave way to him so that he could move past easily with the trolley load and get what he needs done so that he could maybe finish up earlier, perhaps to head home to a wife and kids for dinner, while me went back to my candy search. the candy store flooring was a little uneven due to cracks and patches in the linoneum, was even staring at one ill repaired "hole" for awhile and had a feeling that something was about to happen.

true enough, split seconds later, "the walking accident" lived up to the reputation of being "the accident". as the the uncle was unloading the boxes, the trolley was rolling about slightly in a to and fro manner due to the weight shift. the trolley is unforgiving as it has no eyes, nor brakes for the matter, and so therefore, was the infelicitous "hit and run" victim. long story short, the trolley, still stacked with boxes, probably a molehill high now considering the uncle had unloaded a couple, rammed straight into my back, and hitting my spine and jabbing my tailbone. considering it happened before one could blink, became the candy store's hit of the moment statuette, pun intended. just too pained to say a word and too stunned to even yelp an "ouch". goddamnit, it still hurts like a bitch till now, all thanks to the old tail bone injury.

so much for being good intentions in a non helpful manner. perhaps that was retribution for the lack of altruism, or for that piteous pittance of gracious generosity. on a serious note, if the knock has to happen in all its predestination, then for crying out loud, knock me down already, dead would be good, because unceremonious insipid half hearted ones like these are just agonizingly torturous, and a complete pain, literally.

Friday, 5 June 2009


shoe shopping is total excruciation. it boggles me till now to no end how on earth females can shoe shop and innocuously try and try and try pair after pair, ridiculously parking in the shoe store for a good hour or so, and more probably, then zap up an exorbitantly fat bill with the supposed final selection of box hill, no, mountain, of shoes. seriously, all of that, when humans are only born, to my knowledge of clinical anatomy, with only one pair of feet?!?

unfortunately, there was not really much of a choice, given that the need arose for such an onerous deed to be done, or else it would probably take godzilla, or maybe king kong, or the incentive of a billion dollars, to boot kick me out of the house. if feet could talk at this point, mine would be crying bloody murder and yelling at me like a shrieking banshee. my feet ain't calling the calvary in, so reckon they have either decided to play the rebel, or throw in the towel and wave the white flag in defeat, or have completely died and ascended to foot heaven, or heel and toe hell from all the distress they have been painfully subjected to.

now know why heels in this modern age and time are famed silent barbaric assassins, where they are commonly, and affectionately to some, nicknamed as "killer heels". it is not without reason, because heels, all five inches of it, murder one's feet, literally. and no, the devil ain't wearing prada.

Tuesday, 2 June 2009

one knows...

one knows one is loved by one's parents when:

1) one's daddy discreetly changes one's toothbrush just because the concurrent one is a little old, with the bristles starting to sprout in a haywire pattern and the color indicator, which hollers "time for a toothbrush change", just about to completely disappear into nothingness. not to mention, it is of a favorite color at that.

2) one's daddy plays chauffeur in the middle of the night, at any godforsaken hour one rings the "help, am stranded" button, or any time of the day if a ride back is really needed, without a single word of complaint. got to put a disclaimer here that this service is used very sparingly and only in cases of emergency, like when one is about to flop dead on one's feet.

3) one's daddy hangs one's medication on the doorknob or on the table, and monitors the medication taking moreso than oneself, like a hawk to be precise.

4) one's mommy buys and puts one's favorite foods on the table or leaves in the refrigerator in a nonchalant manner as if it was there before, just sitting around, when it had just miraculously appeared out of nowhere as if whipped out by some elusive fairy godmother. she even queues up like some mad woman at some god knows what supposedly famous, opens once in a blue moon, roasted barbeque meat noodles stall for a good hour, just so she can share that rare unforgettable morning breakfast moment with one. even better, she packs it so that it is pretty much a breakfast in bed moment.

5) one's mommy texts, calls and bugs one "have you eaten yet???", "remember to eat" and leaves notes like "hungry??? food in the fridge", "do not eat the leftovers, leave it for me, bought xxx for you" lying around on the door, on the refrigerator door, on the mirror and any other surface that allows for a post it note to stick itself to.

6) one's mommy hangs out one's laundry after the washing machine has decided to be done with its spinning rounds just so one can have a little bit more sleep because one has been that tired out from the shooting madness.

7) one's parents nag, yell and whinge one's ears off, but only because it is out of loving concern that they say what they say, and do what they do, even if it does grate on one's nerves at times.

8) one's parents mask up like ninja warriors due to the swine flu epidemic when they enter one's room to send food and medication to the quarantined bed patient suffering from a really lousy bad bout of regular flu.

in return???

one knows one loves one's parents, when one attempts to tolerate the despicable pungent pong that rushes out like tsunami waves and slaps one's guts inside out when one opens the refrigerator door that comes from a horrendous green prickly abominable atrocity, just because it is their age old delightful love. even if it is that disgustingly stinky. till then, reckon it is in one's best interest to stay a mile away from that refrigerator door, at least for the next two weeks, to preserve one's sanity, even if barely.