the decay

When I slam the door and run from you, my heart dies a little.
When I scream in exasperation and hang up on you, my heart dies a little.
When my heart dies a little, my tears and fears resurface.
I don't want to cry anymore.
Please let me go.
Please don't look for answers you can never find.
Please let yourself go.
Please.

stress

The past week has been hell. Was stressed beyond all thresholds of my working life. Wait. Except that time when I was in KPMG and the new accounting standard came out requiring auditors to compute backlogs of deferred tax and I didn't know how to do it and nobody wanted to teach me and I was working till the wee hours in the morning sobbing in helpless agony. Oh and the crazy deadlines of my first ad agency. And and. Ah, fuck it. Work has been stressing me out full stop.

My home computer is resurrected! Alive and kicking dawgs and bitches! Now if I could just figure out how to get my sound card to work... But then that's what little brothers (not part of my anatomy excuse me) are for. So I shall wait for him to come (by car you moron) this weekend.

So what reports do I owe? Let's see.
(1) Bangkok trip summary and pictures. Boo has already posted lots in her Flickr. Albeit my strict warnings not to put up pictures with me inside just in case history bites my ass 20 years down the road at the wrong time. No there're no nekkid pictures so no need to bribe Boo.
(2) Meeting Pinkpig before she flew off to Taiwan from Australia. Hmm but I think I wrote something about that already but the haze is making my lungs as black as Wesley Snipes and my brain is suffocated from lack of oxygen.
(3) The haze. The fucking haze.
(4) The violation of my left nipple.

I think I'll cover (3) and (4) since they don't require accompanying pictures. Especially (4) you pervert.

I'm smoking again. I'm gonna blame the stress working 3 jobs. And the haze that's gonna be around till end of the year, killing my eyes, scorching my throat, and blackening my lungs. The monumental pack of Salem Lights sitting in my pen holder that used to proudly mark my indifference to ciggies suddenly became... rational. Ah whatever.

My masseur in Bangkok molested me. It was my first Swedish Oil Body Massage (and last thank you you asshole) and I thought there wouldn't be any problem with male masseurs (why the fuck did the counter-lady give us male masseurs? Because we're meek-looking, polite Asians is it?) because, hell, they're professionals innit? I suppose they've seen thousands of women half nekkid in all shapes and sizes, doing what they do. And Boo didn't hesitate after the initial exchange of "what! we gonna have male masseurs!" looks with me. So I excitedly prepared for my pampering.

I didn't like it. He was pressing too hard even after I told him not to. My spine felt like it's gonna break or pop out of my skin like that female alien show with the 30-second full frontal. I told myself to get rid of the massage-virgin worries and damn well enjoy it since I paid. Then his hands wriggle beneath the towel covering my breasts and started kneading them. Hard. OUCH FUCKER. I looked over at Boo. Her male masseur wasn't doing that to her. But then she started a bit later than me so maybe he'll start later on her too. And maybe I'm just acting like an Asian prude, the foreign ladies who come here are probably okay with this. Breast massage is said to lessen the chance of breast cancer right? Right?

But I still felt uncomfortable. And I guess I was in too much shock to actually ask him to stop. (any of you who think this might be a chuckle-inducing time for the opportune "maybe you're enjoying it, heh heh heh"... don't. I've always wondered breaking fingers sound like and this seems like a good time for me to find out) Then the fucker pinched my left nipple. My hands shot up in reflex, smacking his hands away. Macibai. Maybe I should've made slapping guys part of my usual habit so I could slap his face 30 times in reflex. And strangle him with my bra then plead temporary hysterical insanity.

I sat up. He immediately set to work on my shoulders and back without saying anything. Again, I was too shocked to do anything. My mind was racing and trying to catch up with what just happened. I guess I zoned out for a bit because when I came to the massage was over. He watched me put my clothes back on, handed me my slippers and asked me to come again tomorrow. Smiling.

It wasn't until the walk back to our guest house and I complained to Boo and she said her masseur didn't do anything of that kind to her, that I realised I have been molested. Gaaaargh! And I actually paid money to get molested! STUPIDITY TO THE MAXIMUM! Come to think of it, he was massaging my thighs a lot. And let his fingers slip into my panties up my ass cheeks a few times. And I thought it's because his hands were too oily. Bugger!

But, being the demure and cincai Asian that I am, I didn't storm back into the shop and kick him in the groin. I just swallow the humility and whine to anyone who would listen. And blog about it.

FUCK I FEEL SO STUPID.
I'll not be having any oil massage for a long long time.

long time

It's been long. Meaning to post a bit from Bangkok but didn't even have the chance to go near a computer. And my home pc is still dead. So no pictures for now. BUT there're stories to tell. Oh yes plenty of interesting stories.

Today's Friday the 13th. And we're going to a carnival. (cue Final Destination 3 scenes) And it's gonna be fun. I haven't been to one in decades!

I'm broke. Pulling my hair off trying to itemise where my money gone. My Europe backpacking fund has been stagnant for the past 3 months. I can barely scrape some together to send my momma off for her annual vacation.

Yes. I'm ashamed to tell people I have a financial accounting degree.

boy boy

Boy-Boy is BACK!!! He's not dead!!! I don't care if the lady from the market abducted him. He's BACK!!!

And I'm going to Bangkok tomorrow for a week!!!

And, and...
Life is good.
I love life.
Aaaaaaaaaah.

fucking sick

Last night I received damn disturbing news. Boy-Boy has gone missing since morning. Never happened before throughout the 13 years he stayed with the family. Calvin opened the gate for him when he wanted to clean the courtyard. Usually Boy-Boy would just wander around outside for a bit, then bound happily back into the courtyard again. Not yesterday.

20 minutes later and no sign of Boy-Boy, Calvin went on a search around the neighbourhood. Fruitless. Maybe he went home, Calvin thought. He headed home and stayed a while, waiting for Boy-Boy. Still no sign.

Calvin then went on a search again. What he found disturbed me more than any apparition or monster did, or could, I believe.

In a huge neighbourhood garbage bin, he found a dog's severed head. With all the fur yanked out. And the lower jaw torn off. And some smaller body parts.

WHAT SICK FUCK WOULD DO THIS KIND OF THING!!!!!!

I gagged and nearly vomitted when I heard about this. No animal deserves this kind of inhumane, sadistic, fucking freakingly SICK... end. If I know which fucker is the butcher, I'll... I'll... I don't even want to put into words what I'm going to do to him. FUCK.

I wanted to post a picture of Boy-Boy here, but my damn cellphone won't connect to the pc. Anyway, he's white. Looks like a huskie. Very friendly. Always smells a bit damp, and masculine. Likes to sit outside the living room door and watch what's going on inside. Loves fresh-out-of-the-fridge mandarin oranges.

Oh God I'm gonna cry again.
Oh God please don't let the butchered dog be Boy-Boy.
Please let him be found in the nearby pound or SPCA. Or someone's house.
Please let him die of old age. Dreaming happy dog dreams.
PLEASE.

vodka

I just had Manhattan Fish Market for dinner again! Two nights in a row. Can't help this weakness in me. Their baked dory is excellent! But I'm damn thirsty now, so the tastiness of their fish dish might be all artificial. Oh well.

Everyone, meet Vodka my goddaughter. Vodka, meet everyone. And stop staring at the handsome black-and-white he-bitch already. He ain't real. Actually, a lot of male species out there ain't real, but I'll lecture you when you're older.

Vodka likes to sleep like this. I wonder if her throat/neck hurts when she wakes up. Now Vodka's mummy's got her a nice big fluffy cushion to sleep on so it's much better.

Vodka and I sharing a moment of bonding and closeness. In silence. Just look at her sombre, deep-in-thought expression. Fwaaaah. Or it could be sleepiness, because...

...Vodka didn't wanna camwhore with me no more after a while.

weekend

The weekend was a flurry of activities. Ball-busting but totally enjoyable. Supper with the boys from Pathfinders (my ex-but-potential-current-band) Friday night. Spent the entire Saturday with Shummy. I was planning to get my car serviced in the afternoon but we were having too much fun to quit (oh I can just imagine homophobes raising eyebrows here). Payless Books Sale was good. The impulsive shopper inner child in me kicked in full gear and I bought 25 novels.

This is 2 years' worth of reading materials in the shitter for me.

On our way back to Shummy's shack, something very interesting happened. It rained cats and dogs. Not wanting to be caught wet and clinging to each other (from the cold, but wahahaha this is so fun) we made a split decision to stop by Amcorp Mall instead of going straight home. Then the rain stopped. And we decided to go home after all. Then it rained again. And we took another detour to get to Amcorp Mall again. Then the rain stopped.

Fuck me.

We went to Amcorp Mall anyway. And it was a good decision. Because it poured again while we're nice and cosy and cradling steaming mugs of Starbucks coffee witnessing the absurdly unpredictable (either that or it's got something against indecisive people with nothing to do on a Saturday) weather.

And I finally got to watch telly. Have almost forgotten how the dials and buttons work. Shummy's got an awesomely cosy TV den. So cosy I can forgive the piddling supply of goodies in the fridge. Good thing we got nangka and rootbeer earlier. And Project Runway.

Is this the end of Saturday? Nooooooo way hombre. An old high school friend called for supper with some other high school friends whom I haven't met since I was 17. The gathering was a bit stiff and formal initially, with chat topics mainly surrounding work, who's dating who, who got married... until I started my boob jokes and snarky comments... and everyone embraced me in guffaws and exclaimed how I haven't changed since 10 years ago. I'm popular again. *gloat*

THEN Brandon called and said he's on the way with Pinkpig to pick me up for our midnight singing session. Being the gracious hostess and proud citizen that I am, how can I refuse the chance to show a foreign visitor our culture and way of life? So we sang till 4 in the morning. And Pinkpig proved more entertaining and friendlier than I thought.

Spent the entire Sunday with Pinkpig and now I'm speaking Mandarin with a heavy Taiwanese accent. She's backpacked to the northern regions of Malaysia and will be back this weekend. I miss her already. Our snark levels are totally complementary and it's so much fun cornering innocent, soft-spoken Brandon into a stammering, spluttering wreck. Woo ha!

TGIF

Thank God it's Friday.

The fries that come with the burger there is waaaaaay better than Chilli's. And today's lunch is FREE! Wanted to go Ikano to renew road tax for my Lisa, but the bosses saw Shummy and I walking out and decided to join us. So my Lisa had her fill of two men inside her once again, after a long hiatus (since I disbanded myself from the band and chauffering the boys). I was damn glad she didn't creak and moan too loud, it'd be tres embarassing.

Lunch was good. Very entertaining. Very fulfilling. And it's FREE, thanks to Boss Juju. I don't usually interact with him much, Shummy's the writer who deals with him. And Papa Whale is such a joker-lah. Totally brightened up my day with his snarky remarks. Hush, you're gonna freak Boss Juju out with the blatant reference to my sexual preference yo!

I love my job.

drumstick

Met up with the ex after gym. She was done with dinner and looking through some documents. Wow, did you purposely leave the fried chicken thigh for me, I asked teasingly. Not really, but you can have it if you want, she replied.

And I did have it.

And I know she knows I like drumsticks. And I know she still loves me and doesn't know how to stop and it's killing her. And for a moment, I felt like crying.

Then the arguing started. Inevitably. And then she left in a huff, only to call and call and call to argue again at midnight. And I hung up on her after 2 hours. And switched off my phone.

I HATE hanging up. On people. And people doing that to me. And I feel like crying again.

RATS!

Motherfucker. My housemate asked me to come out from my room and help him chase a rat in the house out. All excited, I opened my room door and stepped outside to the dark staircase, and promptly... kicked the rat down the stairs.

I did scream a little. Out of shock mostly. I'm not scared of rats. Hmmph.

The rat was HUGE. With a thick long tail that grossed me out in a strangely interesting kinda way. And it clawed at my foot a bit when toes connected with soft furry stomache. I'm damn glad I didn't STEP on it, I am. Don't want no rat shit rat intestines just outside my door.

Hello, Rat? What the fuck were you thinking waiting outside my room? Trying to burrow your way inside and share my depression? Or roll about in my dirty laundry basket?

rock bottom

I've hit rock bottom.

You are emotionally torturing me. I know I'm irresponsible and manipulative. I know I fucked up our relationship. I know I cannot keep using the excuse of my fucked up childhood experience to run away from problems. I know I'm confused as fuck right now and I'll try my darndest not to fuck up other people's lives. But you don't have to force these on me 3 times a week. It's been more than 4 months. I know I can never make up to you for all that you've done for me, that I will owe you for the rest of my life. My self-worth has diminished to the size of the smallest paramecium.

I smile when I'm angry.
I cheat and I lie.
I do just about anything to get by.
Yes you have succeeded. I hate myself.

And when I don't even like myself, nobody else does.
Nobody.

damien rice

there's still a little bit of your song in my ear
there's still a little bit of your words i long to hear
you step a little closer to me
so close that i can't see what's going on

stones taught me to fly
love, it taught me to lie
life taught me to die
so it's not hard to fall
when you float like a cannonball
stones taught me to fly
and love taught me to cry
so come on courage
teach me to be shy
'coz it's not hard to fall
and i don't wanna scare her
it's not hard to fall
and i don't wanna lose
it's not hard to grow
when you know that you just don't know

I love Damien Rice. I love Cannonball. Makes me wanna cry every fucking time I listen to it. Fuck the late-night latte and drifting into fitful naps for 2 hours before coming into work. Fuck this torturous yearning.

starbucks

Dammit. I so shouldn't have tried the Pumpkin Spice Latte at Starbucks at 10pm. Now it's almost 4am and I'm as awake as... well... awake. I'm gonna be so dead at work tomorrow. Sigh.

Angst-ridden unrequited love.
Face I want to see in the morning.
Lips I want to kiss into the night.
Subtle nonchalant despairing rejection?
Buttons zips clasps I want to undo.
Skin I want to trail fingertips.
Obsession obsession obsession obsession.
I'm drowning.

This whirlpool of mixed emotions and yearning sure doesn't help.

bangkok

They say the ad industry in Thailand is very fun. Judging by the video clips of some ads, I must agree. Everything ad-related in Bangkok impressed me. And this leads us to a mini-walkthrough of my Bangkok trip with the ex a month ago.

I really like how they advertise all over shopping malls. I wanted to take more pictures but there were security guards on every floor of every major shopping complex that patrol and shoot anyone who takes pictures.

Cannot imagine any of our local language schools doing this.

Thais were celebrating Mother's Day when we were there. I was initially baffled, because, Mother's Day is supposed to be somewhere in May all over the world, right? Then a cabbie told us it's the birthday of their Queen Mother. Everyone wore a yellow t-shirt with an emblem (no idea what it said) for the occassion. Wow. I don't even know the name of our Queen Mother.

Fireworks display at night for the Queen Mother. And because the area we stayed at is very near to the Grand Palace, we didn't need to watch it from the telly. What can I say. Khao San and Rambuttri Road rock.

The only drawback of staying in Khao San area is the transportation. There're no BTS or MRT station, and I have no clue where the bus stop is. BUT there's a very cheap, fast and convenient (fairly) alternative - boats. They're punctual, never get stuck in traffic jams, and the view is really nice if you don't focus on the colour of the water.

I admit, waiting 20 minutes for the boat was quite boring. Okay, VERY boring. But one can always read a little, or stare at the murky water and look out for floating dead dogs. Or space out like me and think about what to have for dinner.

But the view (and occassional faceful of Chao Phraya water) from the boat is worth it.

Really. Travel during sunset (think the last boat to Khao San is around 7) and see all the 1200baht-dinner-cruise-package highlights for free!

I love Rambuttri Road. We stayed at Lamphu House, and once you leave the guest house you see rows of eateries like this. Food's not too shabby. GREAT crowd and ambience. Backpackers from all over the world, chilling and chatting, watching telly, reading... I felt very... belonged.

Even Jack Sparrow loves to hang around Khao San area.

Likewise for Grasshopper, Maggot and all kinda insects. Maggots taste milky!

Talking about food, there are several one musn't miss or prepare to be humiliated and ridiculed upon relaying Bangkok tales to friends and family. First is the vibrantly different versions of Thai salad. You can have it with squid...

... or salty crab (thanks a lot, Feef, for telling me the crabs are there for taste and not to be eaten after I damn near broke my teeth trying to chew through the innocently-looking-very-similar-to-but-not softshell crabs)...

... or real crabs with glass noodles.

Another must-try is the mango with sticky rice. Sinfully sweet fresh mango slices coupled with sticky rice damp and slightly salty from thick rich coconut milk... so nice can die. And I'm addicted to sticky rice. No wonder Thais eat sticky rice more than steamed rice. Totally wrecked havoc to my digestive system but don't care.

I enjoyed the fried egg with oysters too. Not as sticky compared to Taiwan-made ones. But what's with the beansprouts man. Almost every dish of Thai food overflows with beansprouts. Under food. On top of food. Beside food.

I don't like beansprouts-lah.

the l word

So hooked on The L Word. It's funny but wistful, loud but unspeaking. I don't know if it will confuse my already-confused sexual preference any further. Or fuel my resoluteness to come out and stay out. All I know is, I can totally relate. My questions are answered (some of them anyway). I've been bi-curious since my early teen years but I didn't want to be a social pariah so I kept my mouth shut. And jump from one straight guy to another. And then I was with a woman finally but that didn't work out too well either. So it might not be a sexuality problem after all but how I handle relationships in general. I might just be a insatiable curious person craving new experiences craving emotional rollercoasters so I can always remain in this "tortured soul" pain/pleasure plateau and fuel my creativity/angst. I really don't know. And right now. Right now. It's nice to just drift. No extremities.

I wonder if all the characters in the show are lesbians in real life. You've gotta be at least slightly interested to do it until Season 4. That or the money's really good. Looking at the cast, though, I'll do it for the chicks. Anytime.

post-trauma

In the throes of my post-traumatic experience over the weekend, one thing proves true: Murphy's Law. Anything that can go wrong, will.

Bloody heck. At my financial neediest...
(1) I confirmed another Bangkok trip in October.
(2) My room's air-conditioner is dripping water.
(3) My car is a month late for servicing.
(4) I bought a new insurance policy.
(5) My pc is acting up.
(6) I'm having major period cramps without the period.
(7) Which reminds me I'm a year late for my gynae check-up.
(8) I've 3 wedding gifts to get.

And Pluto got booted from the planetary club. I grew up with 9 planets! Why are there so many changes right now! I cannot swallow!

Shitty mood alert. And you can shove the "so many people are worse off than you so count your blessings" preach up Uranus. Someone's better let me win Scrabble and Boggle at lunch.

trauma

Macibai. I walked 15 minutes under the burning sun to the police station and what do I get? Nothing but a throbbing headache and a bellyful of pissiness. I made my police report yesterday but the nice handsome young police officer said he couldn't get my report stamped and verified because it wasn't a normal working day so could I please come back tomorrow, pay 2 bucks and get the report stamped. Fine. Nevermind. Then just now I wolfed down lunch and did a mini walkathon over. And the bitch in uniform told me the "stamping officer" had gone out for lunch and could I come back an hour later. Stamping officer? What kind of BULL?! Taxpayers are paying an individual salary and supplying him/her a uniform to STAMP police reports? What about the rest of our much-trusted law enforcers who're lounging in the Damansara air-conditioned police station? Macibai indeed.

And I couldn't get a cent out from the bank because I don't have a temporary identity card. I couldn't get a temporary identity card because my police report isn't stamped. I couldn't stamp my police report because... some lazy asswipe sonofagun is too lazy to walk to get the stamp. I presume. I can too.

padini authentic

Grandmafucker! My wallet got stolen today at One Utama. Brought mum for lunch and was browsing through clothes at Padini Authentics at the old wing when some girls swamped me. So big space elsewhere but two of them shoved me while feigning to reach for clothes. I glared at them indignantly and went back to dig clothes for mum. Then I smelled something fishy and quickly checked my handbag. Machaohai it was unzipped halfway. I tore the rest of the zipper open, my heart weighing like lead. My gut feeling was right. Bitches took my wallet! I yelled. Everyone in the shop stared. My mum swore she saw the bitches walked/ran out.

I went to make a report at the info counter. Was still kinda dazed. As I was filling up the Lost Item Report Form, I saw another girl coming to report her stolen wallet as well. She was in Blook, checking out belts when someone shoved her. And ripped her bag open and took her wallet. Fuck. Her two thief-bitches had KNIVES ok. Her bag was literally gutted. Suddenly I realised that I know this girl of similar fate. She was in my college! Cibai. When we're both hugging and lamenting about our misfortune, an angry parent yelled at the info counter people to see their CCTV because his daughter's cellphone was picked. Oh. My. Gee. All within 5 minutes. Makes me wonder how many cases One Utama handles in a day. AND HOW COME THERE'S NO BETTER CCTV SYSTEM INSTALLED!

I demanded to see the CCTV recordings inside Padini Authentics (both floors) and outside on the corridor. Security guard said I need to furnish the police report for them to allow the CCTV recordings to be reviewed. Mahai. Nevermind. I did my police report, cancelled my cards and convinced myself that the 30-second incident really did happen. Then I went back to One Utama, showed them my police report and nicely asked them to check the CCTV recordings. I was sure I could recognise the two bitches. About my age, casual wear, hair in a ponytail, Malay/Filipino.

"I'm sorry Miss. We don't have CCTV inside the outlets."

Bloody hell.

"And our CCTVs on the corridors are static. And I don't think any of them point at Padini Authentics."

Hot bloody hell assreamerunclefuckergrandmalickerlittlekidstoucher.

Why say so confidently I can replay the incident through CCTV recordings and shoo me off to make police report-lah? Mahai. Pissingly I demanded to see the recordings of NEARBY CCTVs anyway. Then have to wait for the guard to photocopy my police report, slowly bring me to the Control Room, yak a few minutes with the supervisor there (who promptly took off after feigning interest in my case for a few minutes)... and then the tape with THE only POSSIBLE angle to identify my two bitches was kaput. When rewound it showed only grainy blackness and the word "Loss"... Macibai I know about my loss already ok. Show me the faces of the bitches so they can print it out big-big and display it everywhere in One Utama so nobody else has to go through what I did. Of course it'd be an added bonus if they're stabbed and robbed on their way home with my wallet... but I'm willing to take that back if One Utama cleaners find my wallet and IC and driver's license and return them to me. And my Uptown parking access and office access cards. And my bloodgroup and insurance healthcard. Take my credit cards, take my ATM cards. Take take take. Take the cash also. Gimme back my documents and important namecards I have inside macibaiiiiiii.

Bitches, may your assholes be infested with the fleas of 1000 Afghan camels and may your arms grow too short to scratch.

One Utama, seriously... do something about the CCTV. And please ask your managers on duty to have some balls. Why don't dare to see me? What kind of effing customer service is this?

tongue

I'm not kidding about the tongue action. Last I checked it hasn't gone into any of my colleague's ear so I guess I'm still alright. Papa Whale did make some colourful remarks though. Hilarious.

I feel damn happy seeing my colleagues displaying the souvenirs I got for them around their workstations. Almost everyone said thank you! I'm so glad I didn't just grab some spicy Thai crackers and chucked them on the studio's table.

Bangkok, I'm coming again! Have more interesting stuff on sale for me, will ya?

back from bangkok

I'm back, alive and kicking. And I can't wait to go back. Bangkok, that is. Not the office drinking session. Because I talk too much when I'm tipsy. And my tongue tends to go places where no tongue has ever gone before. In public.

Mum's coming for a visit this weekend. My stuff are still all over the room. Toilet still clogged with hair. And my baby brother moved out while I was gone.

Drat.