digress & obsess [v2]

my new years resolution came 2 months 2 late. O_o

thou shalt stop commiting sins;

namely blowing money faster than the life-span k-fed’s singing career.

you see, i have a problem.

and BIG one.

and i need help.  maybe therapy, hypnosis. maybe another hobby.

i suffer from a spawn of an affliction known as the "hyper-excessive-compulsive- shopping-disorder".

experts have characterised this disorder as being somewhat centered around:

- individuals who lose almost all of their physical and mental self control, when left stranded in a shopping mall

necessary precautions to be taken:

(NEVER leave an individual suffering from this affliction ALONE, unsupervised and UNRESTRAINED, in the presence of shops, namely designer shoes, handbags, and pretty/shiny/chic and/or/ as clothing)

- common syptoms experienced by these individuals include a short term memory loss

(normally between the times when a HOT piece of clothing/bag/pairofshoes is spotted to the moment the card is swiped/cash payed)

-individuals also tend to hyperventilate and experience strange emotional highs/lows soon after, when they regain their SENSES, and realise the items they have just purchased are almost ALWAYS NON REFUNDABLE.

necessary precautions to be taken:

(consolation in the from of alcohol, is NOT recommended, but nicotine and a bit of dark chocolate should do the trick…if all should fail do it the ol’skool way and say: "if you aint got no money take your broke ass home!" or something of that sort)

*****************

the chain of events which then morphed into a downward spiral started off like this:

********************** 

trouble from down under:

yes, taken in a literal sense.  i woke up one morning to an uncalled for, annoying itchy-scratchy experience down under.

being the drama-mama that i am, i quickly rang the smelly and told him about my inconvenient, unglamourous dilemma.

being the kind, considerate smelly that he is, he came straight over, and offered to take me to the nearest gynae in the area.

so there i was seated at the gynae’s table, being questioned to-fro, back-forth about my sexual history, eating habits, (of lord forbid!) weight and being enlightened about STD’s, and safe sex and on and on.

that wasnt the worst part

the doctor (who was a SHE btw) said she needed to examine me down under. O_o

uh.oh.

after an unnerving 10 mins of probing me w a intrusive cold metal object, she concluded that i had a yeast infection.

say wot?

being the inquisite person that i am, i asked her wot had caused it.

too much sex? too much wearing skanky underwear? not showering enough?

she replied curtly: "the exact opposite, love.  you’re in fact, TOO CLEAN".

the way she sounded made me feel like a sterilised specimen.

well i never!

if i ever knew upkeeping my personal hygiene would in fact cause me to get some nasty itchy-scratchys, i wouldnt shower for a week!

well, i left her room, feeling utterly violated, confused and dumbfounded,

the gynae had one thing left to say after all the fucking probing., "well, girl, you’ve got a nice vagina! il give you that".

O_o

oh god.

the smelly was also curious.

"so, so…howdidit go?"

"apparently im too hygienic la…must be all your faut.  YOU’RE the SMELLY!"

"oh."

smelly paid the bill, maybe so that id stop ranting about my unsettling experience at the doc’s.

*********************

fast forward 24 hours later, and well, i was in need of some serious shopping therapy.

after lunch-ing with sya & co., i hauled my ass over the midvalley to look at some pretty shiny things.

i got side tracked *somehow*, and "pretty shiny things" ended up being :

-a whole brand spanking new range of biotherm face and body products

(i bought so much stuff, they gave me so much free shit, and a huge new white tote to lug all the shit in it -_-)

- i managed to potter over to kookai, and again entered and left the store a new member

- then, right in front of me, stood more pretty, shiny colours, in the form of M.A.C.

that stupid mook of a salesgirl somehow succeeded in convincing me that my looks were only salvageable with the new range of dunno-wot-the-fuck volume-crap mascara, eyeliners, foundation and nonsense.

needless to say, i got conned once more. bitch -_-

i suddenly panicked as i realised howmuch ive spent, not counting the debt i had yet to repay for the mini-fortune i blew in bangkok.!

oh fuck!

it suddenly dawned upon me, there were rows and rows and rows of more shops to conquer, and no DAMAGE CONTROL SQUAD.

"oh fuck, i need to get out of here, before, i lose it again, and ring smelly, and wail, and complain, and insist he come and get me".

i said to myself.

so off i tottered carrying to heavy shopping bags of nonsensical, but HOT, pretty shiny things. 

but alas, on the way up…to the car park, i spotted the cutest most adorable turquoise floaty top staring at me, in the sonny san boutique.

"no. no more. i cant. i love you, but i cant". i said

"yes, love, you can". she whispered

"NO, I CANT, i need lunch money for next week". i retaliated, frowning.

"oh yes you can, you can live out of your parent’s fridge…or better still, NOT EAT!" she reasoned

"shut up". i sweated

"you could stand to lose a few pounds…yknow.."

"SHUT UP!"

"just buy me, bitch! you know you want to"

-_-

so i did. i spent my last 200RM on a bloddy floaty top.  in my defense, it did look damn good. -_-

i practically ran up the escalator, togging my bags of "pretty shiny things",

with just enough spare cash to pay for parking

to get the hell out of there.

***************

so, here i am, sitting at my computer RMxxxx poorer, and smoking to console thyself.

tis’ been a long day. i guess the therapy wasnt THAT bad.

thou shalt not shop. no more. no more, man.

well, till next month at least ;P

 

ok.
its february. which i tend to shun for one and one reason only.

valentines day.

i hate valentines day. its another of those drippy, gay, marketing gimmicks that gives chocolate, condoms, cards, lingerie and gift companies their surge in sales early in the year.

valentines day is when lovers are expected or supposed to express their undying love, and affection towards one another without the risk of sounding too passe.

look man,
valentines day is
passe.

nothing ever fucking works out for me on valentines day. ever.
things screw up, and all i have left to blame is this piece of drippy brain marketing spunk that we call valentines.
lets see, do some backtracking shall we;

(prior to this, i was always, either dateless, or just plain ignored)

- 4 years ago, david got engaged on valentines day. just not to me.

- 3 years ago, i got an issey miyake gift from hann,

but my "thank you" came in the form of a teary phone call made to him in the middle of the night after my mom smacked the shit out of me for having an eating disorder.

the issey miyake didnt last very long anyways, since threw it back at him after a brawl few weeks later.

- 2 years ago, i got dumped, over the PHONE, by TEXT MSG ( i must add), by aaron after he realised that he was just using me to get over his beloved korean hoochie, young.

oh pls. gimme a fucking break.

i guess my break finally came this year.

*crosses fingers and hopes not the jinx it*

my day started out like this:

woke up with a phone call from the smelly saying he wanted to do brunch @ la bodega.

i said ok, wot the heck.

walked over in the scorching sun, hand in hand and sat down at the table.  we ordered the usual.

smelly gobbled up the food before i could even start on the waffles.   

by the time i did, he told me he wanted to pop by bangsar village 2 to check out a magazine. 

resigned, i nodded and went back to the waffles.

****************************************

when i realised he had dissapeared for a good 20 mins or so, i began to feel uneasy.

so in my usual fashion, i started to talk to myself again, wishing my beloved wombat wilbur was by my side to bitch to. 

"where the hell is he? stupid fucker, must be checking out his stupid PC games at the game shop again…"

"there is so no way im going to pay for all of this"

"this is so fucking embarrassing sitting here all by myself…people are starting to stare at me…fuck fuck fuck".

…………………………………

"HALLO".

i didnt even bother to look up, but a shiny gold colour caught my eye.

there stood the smelly w a humongous grin swiped across his face.

"huh?"

before i could start to rant all over again, he plopped a gold ochre shopping bag on my lap.

i blinked a few times, and looked at him, still grinning.

i began to grin as well.

"no way….." i stared at the gold package, knowing full well where that sneaky little bugger got it from.

"happy valentines day!"

i stared at him.

"open it la"

so i did.

half believing all of this, i pulled out a shiny white evening bag adorned with pearls, opals and crystals.

the same one i saw and fell in love w from mumbai se a few weeks back, while dragging him on one of my shopping escapades.

"no way, man"  i was grinning as well.

"no fucking way".

"yes way, la. i love you!"

heh heh heh.

so there i was holding my newest favourite hand candy, pleased-as-fucking-punch.

i only knew on thing to say:

"babe, i know i should say ‘you shouldnt have’.  but id be lying"

smelly: "-_-"

so yeah, i guess this year wasnt too bad after all.

i kinda did a few calculations in my head while smelly asked for the bill.

"so wot did it all add up to?" i wondered.

1) slutty purple dress from blook = 98 RM

2) la bodega brunch = 72 ++ RM

3) fucking awesome white evening bag from the equally awesome mumbai se = 500 ish (i think)

saying the right thing,

at the right time,

with the right type of ammo (mostly, in the form of a gift, or confession of sort)

= P.R.I.C.E.L.E.S.S.

so, fuck valentines man,

fine, maybe to cut some slack,

well for all intents and purposes, cupid didnt shoot me in the arse and/or pull the carpet from underneath me this time around.

**********************************

but who the hell cares?

i got me a wicked new bag to look good with.

im still feeling a little sheepish for all that bitchy drama-queen self conversation i had @ la bodega earlier,

i working on it.

so as divachao used to say to me

"you can take the queen out of the drama but not the drama out of the queen".

– well said, yo.

that turned out ok.

its february already. how time flies.

it is also nearing valentines.

oh man.  O_o

Anyway.

Since ive been thrown into some vigorous debate about men, women, relationships and wot not as of late,

I shall attempt to make some sense in my writing by pondering upon one of my favourite topics:

Sex.

many of you, may have read this entry already, on my now defunct blog (psst..kvnnn) some time back.

but wot the heck.  im bringing sex(y) back!

Sex is good. Sex is said to heal the body, mind and soul. Sex, is sometimes a workout. Sex could be an outlet to vent your problems. Sex improves your mood. Sex boosts your confidence, and maybe. just maybe brings you closer to the person you are doing the dirty with.

—> Liquid silk’s (r) main tagline included: ‘ superior lubrication guaranteed to smoothen out any tension in relationships ‘.

—-> Zsa zsa gabor once infamously quoted:
‘ to get over a man, you have to get under another one ‘.

Go figure. i thoroughly agree.

Thing is, for most women of today, sexual affiliations brings about a whole new genre of expectations in a relationship. (assuming they are in one).

To them, sex is not just sex.

Sex is never

just sex.

Men generally, being the audio-visual creatures they are can switch on and off just like that.

i.e they fuck and move on.

Why is it then, that we become so emotionally attached to our mates, even though we claim that we are satisfying only our carnal appetites?

Sex can sometimes be a rather sticky situation.
(im not meaning in the literal sense)

As we become intimate w our men, (or women)
Expectations for a more fulfilling relationship finally come into full play.

– We want to feel like it wasnt ‘ just a fuck ‘.

– We want to be able to ‘ connect ‘ w our partner not just physically, but emotionally, and mentally.

– We want to lie in bed w the guy for hours, and talk, cuddle, and just exist in their affinity, presuming round 2 doesnt roll around the minute he pulls out.

– We want them to make us feel as if we are respected and loved. And not just because our p***ies give them great pleasure.

– We want fancy dinners, we want them shopping sprees, we want romantic text messages and often miss long intimate phone conversations….we want time time time, dedication, dedication, dedication, yadda yadda………..etc…etc….

The list goes on.

When is it ever enough?

The answer is never.

People should tell it as it is.

First time sex, tricky,

“>

The morning after, trickier,

The rest and all that is to come;

is likened to being in a combustible coal mine. A little bit of friction, and well you and everything w you is history.<span style=”FONT-SIZE: 130%; FONT-FAMILY: arial

Expectations in the bed room, the relationship and just about anywhere else shouldnt be,

Just because,

You could risk an aftermath of bad moods, uncalled for distance, disappointment, and lord forbid,

A bruised ego.

We are aware as intelligent single women that perfection isnt always attainable.

But life still has its uncannily sneaky way of throwing us curveballs.

Maybe when you are sleeping w someone shouldnt necessarily be called dating.

It should be called

waiting for the other shoe to drop ‘.

‘

Waiting for the miracle that is:

‘ great guy, great sex, great body, great relationship ‘, to appear as we plough through our everyday feeling mediocre.

If it isnt the sex between me and you,

then someone has to have a shitload of baggage enough to last a lifetime,

or maybe he’s married.

he’s had a kid or two,

he’s gay and doesnt know it yet.

but why is it always something?

Nitpicking has been a trait women have had since primal times,

and well that cannot be explained any better than

why men think w their penises and not their head. (head, as in brain).

Which brings me to the "anticlimax" of my whole entry:

**written quite awhile back:

*****************************************

Something absurd occurred this evening, as I was having a usual round of bedroom activity w the boyfriend who happens to pride himself on the fact he can make me orgasm again and again.

(dont ask, no comment, and not up for discussion)

So there I was trying to get off on our get-it-on, when he suddenly looked at me, with a disconcerting frown and said,

" did you turn off the water heater?"
" yea, why? " I answered rocking back and forth.
" errr, cos I wanted to take a shower?"
" oh, but I just did, and the water was hot." I stopped moving.

" yea, well now youve used ALL the hot water." 

i looked at him a blinked. twice.  he was suddenly reduced to a 9 year old school boy with a "you-broke-one-of-my-toy-cars" frown on his face.

There wasnt any *grrrrr*.

or any *rwooowrrr*.

or any ‘ throwdown ‘ ,

it was actually,

More of a slowdown.

Somehow, my desire to bang his brains out dissolved into thin air,

as i got off (NOT that way),

walked over to the heater switch and all of the wot-was-left of the chemistry and lust debauched w the sound of the prompt ‘ CLICK’.

The only thing that was turned on that evening was the light on the heater.
And the only thing that was hot in the room was the water.

*******************************************

Needless to say, after that incident, I immediately got dressed, got into my car and sped off as quickly as I could as far away as I could get from the house.

As all you ladies are spectating in awe I have only one thing left to say, the greatest sexpectations, is in fact, NONE.

i took a long hot shower and tried to forget the whole thing ever happened.

Ive come to realize over a hot water heater that I cannot expect anything only because he has already in a way surpassed most of my expectations.
Ive come to realize that when you love someone, nothing else matters,

sex isnt ‘ just the sex ‘.
the sex is in fact ‘ great sex ‘.

When you love someone, you look past their supposed ‘ flaws ‘, and applaud the person as they are, and celebrate wot you already have.

And despite all the hoo-haa arguments, push pull and supposed ‘ mixed messages ‘ one thing remains, in that i am head over heels

and he makes me happy w who I am, fat arse and all.

So,

Im not ‘ waiting for the other shoe to drop ‘.

Cos it fell;

long, before i decided to acknowledge it.
And now I am,

Ive come to comprehend,
sex, no sex, or halfway there sex,
it is still kind of HOT. 

**************************

Of course as with everything in life, there are two sides to the coin.

relationships can turn ugly.  I’ve had my fair share of those.

id like to liken relationships to investments - both shortterm and longterm, depending on wot you want.

As with all investments, we all expect to get something in return.

as time goes by though, no matter how much funds you can chuck into this good-for-nothing investment,

the return is still ZILCH.

my advice is to just move on,

conserve your funds

and chuck-em elsewhere, just to see if the R.O.I (return on investment) is better.

you have nothing to lose,

UNLESS, of course,

you are going out with HIM

happy valentines and CnY y’all.

hope you’ll all have a good one.

and to sakai kvn….im still up and running still blogging, but on this one instead.

– Enjoy!

happy birthday davidhasan-chou!

you’re getting old my friend,

i just wished your maturity could catch up with the age! heh . ;P kiddin

the only photo i have left of you, doing wot you do best.

today is the day you turn 29, which means we’ve known each other for a good 7 years or so.

i remember 7 years ago, you were still a skinny little bastard, and i was the fresh faced chubby teenager you single-handedly corrupted, no?

but we did have some splendid crazy, good times together init.

for wotever that has happened, now all put behind us,

im still utterly proud of you.

-ive never understood your obsessive love for surfing, and beach-hopping all that much.  but you’re still one of the most free-spirited people ive met, and nothing could and can hold you down.

-your love for travelling the globe, made me do the same.

-you’re the brilliant talented artist, that inspired me to go get down to some serious arty business.  thank you, for working with me and photoshopping most my work, and helping me get into artschool.

***************************************

ive hated you for alot of things in the past, yea?

namely being the main source of my heartache and tears and narcisissm.

("im still a size six, and il never be a size two! asshole!")

and you always thought you could make it up to me by buying/sending me extravagant gifts.

i wont deny the fact i thoroughly adored the cartier choker, omega constellation, diamond bracelets, LV monogram bags you used to buy my naive trust and heart with.

i still love the BCBG cocktail dress you picked out, and convinced warren and divachao to deliver to me.

but by far ,

the most memorable gift you’ve ever gave me

was the one that ended up in me having to drink cranberry juice and antibiotics for 2 weeks. -_-

*************************

for as much as ive hated you in the past,

im nonetheless thankful, that you survived the accident, and that you are ok.

i hope your beloved beemer is still salvageable,

you’d be utterly depressed if your baby wouldnt be there to help you pick up the hot chicks eh?

im glad that warren and divachao were there by yourside.

say hello to them for me will you?

***************************

ive come to realise, that it would have been wrong for me to stop you from living life to the fullest,

you’re one that always had to have his way, be it with wine, women and…

well, just wine and women.

i bet you havent changed.

but i have.

*************************************

so, on this special day, i just want to say thank you for teaching me some very invaluable lessons about men. and life, just living in general.

im glad to have met you, and even more glad to have moved on, and fell in love love love

be well, my friend. i know we probably wont be speaking much, if ever. 

hope you settle down soon and get yourself a lovely wife. heh heh heh..

happy birthday asshole! 

may this year be the best yet.

regards,

-the cewek.