Dating Quiz

Your dating personality profile: Stylish - You do not lack for fashion sense. Style matters. A staunch believer in individuality, you stand out from the crowd with your mum's clothes and brother's shoes. You wouldn't want to be seen with someone who doesn't care about his appearance. Athletic - Physical fitness is one of your priorities. You find the time to work athletic pursuits into your schedule, like breathing. Or occasionally turning your body during sleep. Or eating extremely chunky chewy slabs of steak to exercise your jaws. You enjoy being active. In bed preferably. Funny - You laugh often. At people. People never accuse you of lacking a sense of humor. Just mercy. You don't take yourself too seriously. And neither does anyone else, most of the time. Especially your Boss.

Your date match profile: Stylish - You cannot put up with someone who is lacking in style. You want an original, someone with flare, someone with good taste. Someone who thinks a beached whale is the sexiest momma in the history of mankind. Funny - You consider a good sense of humor a major necessity in a date. If his jokes make you laugh, he has won your heart. If he doesn't mind others laughing at him, he has won the left side of the bed. Fragrant - Forget aphrodisiacal manly aroma and bushy afro body hair, you need a sweet-smelling match. Receiving perfumes of all brands interest you, and a scented man will offer the vanity and moolah you need.

Your Top Ten Traits 1. Stylish 2. Athletic 3. Funny 4. Big-breasted 5. Freaky 6. Liberal 7. Intellectual 8. Religious 9. Hungry like the wolf 10. Mammal

Your Top Ten Match Traits 1. Stylish 2. Funny 3. Fragrant 4. Into bondage and biting 5. Moisturising 6. Filthily rich 7. Wears glasses 8. Cooks 9. Yummylicious 10. Obedient

Take the Online Dating Personality Quiz at Dating Diversions

chilli cream

I don't know if it's a PMS-related erratic whim or pure, unadulterated idiotism, but I've signed up for a slimming programme using chilli. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I'm afraid this is the last resort for me to transform into Dainty Dolphin from Beached Whale before the next seismic disaster hit. Actually this stems from KC's incessant nagging for me to be reedy enough for him to carry around, and as much as I get tremendously pissed from this obvious need for superficial perfection in one's significant other half found mainly in the male genes, I thought to myself "heck, end times are near and I simply HAVE to strut around looking babelicious in ultra-revealing slutty clothes before being swallowed by a giant wave or a giant mutated earthworm".

So I rubbed some chilli cream on the huge tub of lard that I used to recognise as a stomache this morning (preview of what to expect during my slimming sessions), and boy oh boy did it hurt. It fucking burned like Gollum's fairy leash. I was writhing and wailing in agony like a leech on a salt mountain, tempted to break the bathroom mirror and hack my skin off. I now fully comprehend the phrase "no pain, no gain". And this chilli cream thing had better work. Or else I swear I'll *censored for extreme gore and obscenity*

I will apply chilli cream again tomorrow. I must get use to it somehow. It's only fair to the beautician that her other customers and civilians within the mile's radius don't flee in terror when I go in for my session.

Anyone who has a better recommendation speak now or forever be silent, unless and until I come back as an obese vengeful apparition denied of a chance to wriggle into a bikini and walking the walk before Christ's second coming.

ikea

I... see... old... people.

Went to Ikea today for the last few batches (hopefully) of accessorizing my new house and room. As usual, the weekend crowd was stifling, but the exceptional phenomenon today was the demographics. I see old people everywhere. It's not a sudden hostile invasion by Planet Septuagenaria. These folks have been around and about all the time I'm sure, but habitually I just see them and smile to the occasional genial, non-frowning ones, and go on my merry way. I see but I don't see. And today I saw. And start to think what it is going to be like for my parents to grow... old. I saw this old lady staring into space, mechanically rocking a toddler in a shopping cart back and forth, back and forth... and I imagined Mum like this. I saw this old man hungrily wolfing down pastry, crumbs dropping all over the place, oblivious to passer-bys... and I imagined Dad like that. Sure, my parents are no longer young and energetic, being more than half a decade old. But still it pains me to imagine them with wispy white hair and hunched and wobbly one day in the future.

When we're young we think our parents are invincible. As we grow older we see their mistakes and realize that they too, are human. And we can't wait to leave home, away from the incessant nagging, away from stringent house rules. Then when we're finally out in the world by our own... there'll be moments when we miss them terribly and just want to cuddle with them in bed on stormy nights, cry on their shoulders when things don't go our way, have a simple home-cooked meal and talk about the day's happening...

I miss my parents. This very moment. So much. I'm overwhelmed with love for my parents, and I don't understand why every time when I go home for a short stay we'll end up quarrelling. Mum's nagging becomes increasingly irritating. Dad's reminiscing his glory days becomes boring and pretentious. However much I love my parents I don't know how to love them in the way they understand and appreciate. I want to spend all my holidays with them at home but there are so many more other "youthful" and enjoyable things to do, and when I do stay home for a long visit we'll end up fighting. I want to bring my parents away on a holiday, a family trip (our last was when I was 11) but I cannot afford a good destination, and the family members all have different days off. Frustration leads to ignorance, and time washes all feelings and dreams away.

Right this moment, I just want to record down the immense love I have for my parents. Whatever mistakes we all made, whatever bad things we thought and said about each other. I know that if I just let this thought - this love - pass from my mind, I'll grow numb again tomorrow and our busy lives will just continue as it is. With Mum calling me once a week to catch up, and Dad writing the occasional email reprimanding Brother and I for not keeping in touch or going home for a visit.

How do I love? How should I love my parents?

Today, I received my first bouquet of ad hoc flowers. Ad hoc because it's not my graduation convocation or birthday. The flowers are for my moving into this new home. The pink daisies are gorgeous and smell delicious. But since it's my first ever bouquet from a boyfriend for no reason at all, I screwed up my execution of "gesture of appreciation". And pissed off the giver big time. Sigh. Etiquette etiquette. I usually warn admirers (yes, I do have one or two sometimes) to not buy me bouquets, not because I hate flowers... no. I think bouquets are overpriced. And I'm allergic to certain super-pollen genres. I like flowers best when they're still breathing in the ground. Or sometimes when I walk around the marketplace, a certain few will beckon secretly to me with a promise to brighten up my space. I don't feel that connection with a bouquet. Somehow it feels plastic and overdressed - and overpriced. Call me realistic. Call me unromantic.

Yep, I must be a cactus or aloe vera person. And I need one for my toilet.